


The Princess and the Banker

by Wardown



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Multi, Other, Princess Sansa Stark, Queen Daenerys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 17
Words: 22,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22184659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wardown/pseuds/Wardown
Summary: Many thanks to Regan X, who allowed me to set this story in the some world as her own excellent fic, Forewarned.  I'm intending this to be a bit like Vanity Fair, by Thackeray, or the Dagger and Coin, by Daniel Abrahams, but fairly light-hearted.  One should read Forewarned, before starting this story.In essence, Daenerys received a prophetic dream, that she would never be free of conspiracies in Westeros,  that Missandei and Jorah would be killed, that Tyrion would betray her, and Jon would kill her.  She also has duties to defend her subjects in Meereen.  She decided against sailing for Westeros, but sent word of the dangers to come to Yara Greyjoy, Ellaria Sand, and Olenna Tyrell, who left for Meereen, with thousands of their people.  The North fell to the White Walkers, and Arya was killed.  Jon, Sansa, Brienne, and Davos and a handful of survivors made their way to Meereen.  Overall, there are about 35,000 Westerosi living in Meereen.The Night King subsequently swept South, destroying millions in Westeros, but receiving a huge check at Cersei's hands, when she destroyed Kings Landing with wildfire. That enabled many people to escape to Essos.
Relationships: To Be Decided
Comments: 215
Kudos: 69





	1. The Dinner Party

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Regan X](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Regan+X), [TargaryenPug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TargaryenPug/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Forewarned](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18875461) by [ReganX](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReganX/pseuds/ReganX). 



“Her Highness, Princess Sansa Stark of Winterfell” proclaims the major-domo, in the low Valryian tongue she has gradually mastered over the past year. She suspects that the man’s brocaded silk livery is worth more than the navy damask dress which is the best she can afford. She has embroidered her family’s sigil, in silver silk thread, on her left breast. An amber necklace and matching pair of earrings constitute the extent of her jewellery, but at least they set off the beauty of her hair. Makeup, artfully applied, hides the scar that she detests. Her host, Oznak Galare, gives her a court bow, before taking her hand and kissing it. He leads her into atrium, on the ground floor of the pyramid. She tries, but fails, to restrain herself from blushing at the mosaics which adorn the floor of the chamber, which depict various acts of sexual congress. They bring back unhappy memories of her time with the Beast of Bolton.

Oznak introduces her to his guests, mostly Meereenese, but including a handful of exiles from her homeland. As she might have expected, the natives are dressed immaculately, in tokars fringed with gold, silver, or pearls, and dripping with jewellery. Even the exiles appear to have prospered. She takes a silver goblet, filled with a fragrant red wine, which she sips sparingly. Other servants bring trays of sweetmeats. _Her highness, Princess Sansa Stark of Winterfell _. The words are like balm to her soul, bringing back memories of the brief time when she was happy, before the horrors that befell her homeland. “Your Highness?” She is dragged out of her reverie, by an attractive blond-haired woman. “My name is Rhaella Selwyn of Tarth. I’m a relative of the late lord. We were fortunate enough to escape the horrors in time. “__

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“The pleasure is mine. You must be related to my sworn shield, Ser Brienne” replies Sansa. “Of course. She would have inherited the lordship from her father, but that means nothing now. I was remarking to our host, that Her Grace the Queen is so generous, so kind to us all. Queen Cersei, may the gods rest her soul, would never have treated exiles with such generosity.” 

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“Her Grace is indeed most condescending.” 

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_The Queen _. Her blood boils, as she recalls the woman’s meanness towards her and Jon, and their circle, over the past twelve months. Never once has she thought to offer them financial assistance or accommodation in her pyramid, or any help beyond occasional gifts of wine or game. Jon is her nephew, and she is her cousin. Is this how family members who have fallen on hard times should be treated? Not once have they been offered a place on the high table at official banquets, being relegated to the Reward. No, the Queen treats them very much as her poor relations, to be gifted the occasional crumb of charity, when Jon should be sitting on the throne beside her. Jon has joined the city guard as an officer, along with Brienne, and she is beginning to make a living as a seamstress, embroidering fine gowns and tokars, but life has been very hard for them. The pair of them now rent a set of rooms, in a respectable area of the city, and can afford a maid . But, that is a far cry from what she is used to. What she is entitled to.”__

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__“Where do you live, Rhaella?”_ _

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__“The pyramid of Kandaq, your Highness, I am a companion to Lord Skahaz’s wife. “_ _

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_A pyramid! _“Are they gracious employers?”__

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___“Most kind, your Highness”. She has heard stories about Skahaz mo Kandaq that would turn your blood cold. Still, no doubt he is civilised enough towards highborn women of Westeros._ _ _

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___“Your Highness, my lords, ladies, and gentlemen, dinner is now served” proclaims the major-domo. Oznak takes her arm, and leads her into the dining room, at the head of the party. They sit at the head of a table set for thirty. The room is exquisite. The floor is mosaic, as in the atrium, the walls decorated with expensive silk wallpaper, depicting hunting scenes. The evening is warm, so the windows are opened. A wonderful smell of lemon and pine enters the room from the gardens which surround the pyramid. The table is set with silver cutlery, inlaid with mother of pearl. A silver gilt centrepiece attracts her admiration. In a gallery above the diners, minstrels play sweet music, as costly perfumes waft through the air. It occurs to her just how primitive life was at Winterfell._ _ _

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___A procession of servants bring in a delicious-smelling soup, in fine china bowls._ _ _

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___“Many of my peers prefer to dine off gold” comments Oznak. He speaks the Common tongue of Westeros, with only a slight accent. “I consider it vulgar”.__ Gold plates. Whoever heard of such a thing?_

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She feared the soup might be something hideous, like stew of unborn puppy, but it is a lovely vegetable broth “This is delicious, my lord” she comments. “And I cannot thank you sufficiently for your hospitality. Your home is a delight. Even the Great Pyramid does not surpass it.” “I would like you to think of it as your home, your Highness.” _Good gods! He’s not proposing marriage is he? _Almost as if he reads her mind, he comments “I mean that you will always be welcome here.”__

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___“You are most kind. So tell me, if it’s not a vulgar question, what is the nature of your business, exactly?”_ _ _

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___“My businesses, you mean. I have many investments.”_ _ _

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___“Investments? I’m afraid this is all new to me.”_ _ _

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___“Of course, your Highness. I take shares in businesses. I buy property and let it out. I own warehouses, ships and manufactories. As a young man, I had the good fortune to spend two years in Braavos. Like all my class, my family owned slaves, but there was no slavery in that city. Yet, their merchant princes were so much wealthier than our own. Why was this? I finally worked it out. Men and women work far more productively, for profits and wages, than they do as slaves, desperate to avoid a whipping. So, when I returned to Meereen, I sold freedom to my slaves. In return for my setting them free, they would pay me a share of their wages, or give me shares of their businesses. It worked.”_ _ _

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___“And, this was before the Queen's Grace came to Meereen?”_ _ _

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___“Yes. Some of my peers thought me mad. That said, I was fortunate to be away from the city when Her Grace took it. The slaves were seeking revenge on all the highborn that day. That was a dangerous time. Later, the Sons of the Harpy were murdering the freedmen, and the city was besieged by enemies. But, there were rich opportunities for those who were willing to take them. I bought tenements and shops for a song, and let them out to the freedmen who came from Astapor and Yunkai. I rented rooms to whole families, by the hour, at rates that I could never have charged before the wars, and they blessed me for it. I hired them for a pittance, and they thanked me. And, when Her Grace returned and crushed her enemies, the value of my buildings and businesses soared. “_ _ _

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___“So, you are a shavepate then?”_ _ _

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___“Your Highness, there are no shavepates, only loyal subjects to her Grace. Ah, the next course. “ Servants bring in poussins, and game birds, cunningly seasoned._ _ _

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___“I can see how backward we were at home. As far I knew, there were the lords who ruled, and the Smallfolk who obeyed them, and paid rents and taxes. Oh, I knew there were merchants, but I thought they just sold luxuries to the lords. And, everyone despised them anyway. “_ _ _

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___“Never despise wealth, your Highness, nor those who create it. Your own countrymen have proved to me a source of great wealth. Most of them are in the same position as the exiles from Astapor and Yunkai were, and……they have many children. “ Here, he looks a good deal less friendly. “In my experience, there are a great many tasks that are best suited to little fingers. And, little fingers require only little wages._ _ _

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___You could be a part of this, your Highness. I must say, it grieves me to see royalty living in straitened circumstances. A lady of your high birth deserves so much better.”_ _ _

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___He’s right, I do deserve so much better _. Her heart soars at the prospect of living in a place like this pyramid. At the thought of owning a villa by the sea, and an estate in the hills. She is beginning to enjoy this conversation.____

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___“Could you be more specific, my lord? How can I be a part of this?”_ _ _

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___“Please call me Oznak, your Highness. You have no doubt heard of the Iron Bank of Braavos?”_ _ _

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___“I have. “ They are interrupted by the third course, venison, stewed in fortified red wine, and lamb, cooked in cream with almonds and dates. She can’t recall eating so well, and for a time, says nothing, concentrating on the meal. Then, “I understand they are dangerous to cross.”_ _ _

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___“Very. But, there are those of us across Essos who see no reason why they should monopolise finance, across an entire continent. I have partners, here in Meereen, but in Volantis too, and other Free Cities, who would form a rival institution.”_ _ _

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___“And what has that to do with me?”_ _ _

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___“By the grace of the gods, many of your countrymen escaped to the Free Cities. They had taken refuge on islands like Tarth, Dragonstone, the Shield Islands, the Stepstones. Eventually, they made their way across the Narrow Sea. They brought their treasures and possessions with them, and many of them have started in business. It would be to our advantage to win their custom. That would be so much easier for us, were one of their own aristocrats to be appointed as a Magistra, you would say a Director, of the Bank. “_ _ _

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___“But, I know nothing about banking.”_ _ _

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___“There is little to know. The work of taking deposits, and making loans would be in the hands of professionals. I would envisage that your role, in addition to attending board meetings, would be to host functions in various of the Free Cities to which your countrymen would be invited. Assure them of our probity and honesty. In return, we would be willing to offer you a salary of ……” he names a sum which has her choking on her wine. It is about forty times what she is earning as a seamstress. “It would of course, be most inappropriate for a Magistra of the Bank to be living in a suite of rooms. I own a villa a couple of miles from the city. I would place it at your disposal.”_ _ _

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___“You are too, too generous Oznak.”_ _ _

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___“Oh, we expect a return on our investment in you, your Highness. I would not have approached you otherwise.” Again, she notices a certain hardness in his expression._ _ _

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___“Allow me a little while to consider this proposal, Qznak. But, thank you.”_ Best not to appear too eager. Perhaps, I can hold out for a higher income._ _

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___The servants bring in the final course, a subtlety, together with oranges and pineapples, and a pudding wine that tastes like apricots. Their conversation turns to lighter matters, before the meal ends. Oznak walks her to the entrance, where his carriage is waiting to return her home. Lady Olenna has often urged on her the need to find work. She can’t wait to tell her what she has achieved._ _ _

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. “Her Grace is most condescending”. That can be either a compliment or an insult, depending on whether you use the term to mean “kind to social inferiors” or “patronising”. Of course, Sansa does not consider herself to be socially inferior to Daenerys (if anything, she thinks of the Targaryens as parvenus).
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> 2\. The Reward was the table immediately to the right of the High Table in medieval banquets. To be placed on the Reward was in fact a mark of significant respect, not that Sansa would see it like that.
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> 3\. The Shavepates are not mentioned in the series. In A Dance with Dragons, they are the native Meereenese who supported Daenerys. Their leader was Skahaz Mo Kandaq. For the purposes of this fic, I’m assuming that at least some upper class Meereenese survived, and were sensible enough to adapt to the new order. Daenerys is not a revolutionary socialist, after all.


	2. Tea With Her Highness

Lady Olenna is taking tea with her relatives, in the Great Pyramid, when the invitation arrives, borne by a servant. What she reads causes her to choke on the seed cake she is nibbling. Embossed in gold lettering is the following message:-

"Her Highness, Princess Sansa Stark of Winterfell requests the pleasure of the company of Lady Olenna Tyrell, for tea, at the Villa Galare, the day following tomorrow."

"What's the matter Grandmother?" asks Megga. She hands her the invitation, before proclaiming "Has she taken leave of her senses? Her Highness? Princess Sansa Stark, forsooth!" 

"It's a been while since we've seen Sansa here", comments Megga. It's true, that she has not visited for several weeks. "But, I suppose she is a Princess. Her brother was King in the North, after all." 

"It's all meaningless now, Megga. There is no kingdom in the North. And no one outside the North even recognised that kingdom. I must visit her, and find out what new folly she's committing". Oh Sansa! It had taken months of patient argument to persuade her that using her skills to earn a living, as a seamstress, was nothing to be ashamed of. But now, what is she thinking? 

Two days later, Olenna and Megga are seated in their carriage, as it enters the long drive leading up to the Villa Galare. Groves of citrus and pines line the avenue, filling the air with their scents. After riding for a quarter of a mile, they approach the villa, an elegant two storey building, with a green tiled roof. Bouganvelia and wisteria trail across the frontage of the house. As her coachman opens the door to the carriage, and helps Olenna descend, a pair of liveried footmen approach them. "Lady Olenna, Lady Megga, you are most welcome" says one. "Her Highness will receive you in the Wilderness." _Her Highness will receive us! ___

The footmen lead the pair through the house, which is light, and airy, lined with stone flags, with marble walls. They emerge into a cactus garden at the rear, and are led through, to a pavilion in the wilderness, where a goddess is waiting for them. Sansa is dressed in a tokar of peach coloured silk, fringed with silver, smiling with pride and joy. She wears a ruby necklace, and matching earrings, all of which set off her hair admirably. Her hair has been artfully styled, and she is immaculately made up. She starts to extend a hand to Olenna. _Good gods! Is she expecting me to kneel and kiss her hand?" ___

Fortunately for them both, Sansa remembers the respect that is due to age, and curtseys instead. "Lady Olenna, Lady Megga you are welcome to my home." She leads them to a table, upon which are set pots of tea and coffee, and a selection of cakes, pastries, and cheeses. A maidservant pours for them, bows, and departs. For a considerable time, they make light conversation, and enjoy the refreshments. Olenna notices that Megga has finished and says:

"Sweetling, this is a prettyish kind of Wilderness. Would you give us a few moments alone together, while you explore it. " Megga rises from the table and leaves. Olenna gives Sansa a long hard stare, for several moments. Eventually, Sansa turns her gaze away. Then, she asks "My child, how have you acquired all this? A short while ago, you were embroidering dresses and tokars, an entirely honourable occupation, I would not deny that for a moment. But, I do not think it pays sufficiently well to enable you to wear silk and rubies. " 

"I have done as you suggested, my lady. I have found work. Well-paid work." 

"And what work is that? Nothing I trust, that would cause disgrace to the reputation of a young noblewoman of Westeros, and bring shame on your House?" Sansa looks puzzled, before horrified realisation dawns. "Never that!" she squeaks. "I am no...…..no courtesan". _No longer the imperious young princess, are you?_

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"I am relieved to hear it. So, pray tell me, what is it that you do?" 

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"I am about to be the Magistra of a bank which is shortly to be incorporated; the Bank of the Graces." 

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"Indeed. I had no idea that you were so familiar with the world of banking, Sansa. Most noble ladies of Westeros have no knowledge of such matters. " 

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"Do you disapprove of my choice? I understand that you might frown on trade and commerce, but you've told me often enough that I am exile, who has to make her own way in the world. If that is how I must earn by living, then so be it. "

"Let me tell you something about my late husband's family, Sansa. There were hundreds of Tyrells who lived in the Reach, most of them very distant cousins. Many were not noble, nor even gentry. They had to make their own living. The Tyrell name might have opened doors to them that would otherwise have been closed, but they enjoyed no advantage apart from that. Many of them became merchants, notaries, harbour masters, jobs of that type. So, no, I do not frown on trade and commerce. I left that to snobs like Tywin Lannister, although I note even he did not consider gold mining to be "trade". My view is that money has no smell, but one thing my relations learned was that merchants rarely offer favours, without expecting a return. Who has appointed you to your position, and what does he expect in return?" 

"The shareholders in the Bank are a consortium, led by a Meereenese nobleman, Oznak Galare."

"I do not know the man, but I have heard of him. He has been received at Court, which is to the good, and he is to be reputed one of the wealthiest men in the city. Why does he require your services?" 

"He has plans to win business from Westerosi exiles who have fled to the Free Cities. He believes that I can vouch for him to them." 

"Ah. And what do you know of the man, that would cause you to vouch for him?" 

"I know that he is extremely generous and charming." 

"I take it that you have thoroughly researched the backgrounds of the man, and his associates? People will be relying on your word, as grounds to deposit their lives' savings with the Bank. People who have fled the same horrors that you have." 

"Of course I have!" _"Have you really done so, Sansa? Truly, I hope that you have done so._

__"Well then, Sansa. Let me tell you that the Queen's Grace will expect you to display the highest standards of probity and honour towards your fellow exiles. You will be as much her ambassador as any accredited envoy of hers. You are staking the entire credit of this realm, in order to advance your own business interests. Her Grace will be greatly displeased, if she learns that either your conduct, or that of the consortium, falls short of the standards which she expects. Now, talking of the Queen's Grace, what has possessed you to claim a royal title? If "Lady Olenna" is good enough for me, "Lady Sansa" should be good enough for you. "__

__"But I am royalty. My family were kings for thousands of years. I am the sister of a king."_ _

__"A kingdom which no longer exists. A kingdom which nobody recognised. Her Grace is unlikely to take offence, you are after all, not claiming her throne. But, you are giving yourself airs, and that is never a good look." Sansa looks most unhappy. Olenna softens her tone._ _

__"I know hard it is for you Sansa. I hope you will make a successful living. I only urge you to be cautious, and not take decisions you may later come to regret. "_ _

__"You need have no fear, dearest Olenna. I value your advice above all."_ _

__Olenna and Megga make their farewells._ _

___I am no courtesan _. The thought of any form of physical intimacy is horrifying to Sansa; but, fascinating. The party she was invited to, at the Loraq villa, a short while ago. Well, that was something else! Not, at all what she had expected.__

__Oznak had escorted her. On arrival, she had encountered the cream of Meerneese society. She was plied with wine and sweetmeats, and finally offered an intriguing substance; pearl dust. Inhaled. After she had taken it, she felt as though she could conquer the world. Oznak took her into a booth, where they reclined on silken cushions together. "Try this" he offered, giving her a silver goblet of wine, heavily flavoured with herbs. They had an unusual flavour. "Take care, your Highness, this wine is strangely potent". She sipped it, gingerly._ _

__Then, the exhibition began. To the music of flutes, and tom toms, a succession of beautiful dancers performed before the audience, in various states of undress. And then, the Queen! By all the gods, Daenerys was slowly disrobing before them all! Silver-haired, purple-eyed, gorgeous. She had never witnessed anything like this.! And then joined by a young Dothraki girl. The girl knelt before the Queen, and began to pleasure her. By the old gods and the new, she had to go, but as she rose, Oznak took her arm. "What takes place tonight, stays among us tonight, your Highness" he commented. Suddenly, she realised this could not truly be the Queen. But, the resemblance was striking. A Lyseni courtesan, presumably. "Is this treason?" she managed to slur. "Is it treason to desire one's Sovereign?" he replied. She fell back into the cushions. A vision floated into her mind. Of her mother, staring grimly down at her, her cold blue eyes fixed on her. No, she had to leave. She struggled up. "Relax, your Highness". Two Dothraki men had joined the women, and were taking them in turn. Other men and women, among the onlookers, began to disrobe. A servant appeared before her, offering her a blindfold, and a pair of silver fetters. It reminded her too much of the Beast of Bolton.__

__"Thank you, Oznak, but this is not for me! I must leave!"_ _

__Oznak waved the servant away. "Your Highness. There is as much pleasure to be had by observation, as by participation. Stay, and observe. " So, she stayed, and observed._ _

__"_ _

__

______ _ _

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final scene was not written for the purpose of titillation. I wanted to show some elite Meereenese still mocking Daenerys behind closed doors, and Sansa being potentially vulnerable to blackmail. Neither Jon nor Olenna would be at all impressed at Sansa attending such a function. Without the presence of Oznak, things might have turned out very ill for her, given all the drugs, aphrodisiacs, and alcohol being consumed.


	3. The Queen's Offer

"I've been promoted to Captain", remarks Jon, as he and Sansa stroll arm in arm, along the seafront. He wears the grey undress uniform of the city guard, she a plain navy dress, but beautifully cut, with the silver chain of her office as Magistra of the new Bank. It is early evening, but still light. The promenade is quite crowded for the evening is warm, with a gentle sea breeze.

"You deserve so much more, Jon. You've commanded armies". 

"The Queen has no shortage of commanders; Ser Jorah, Daario, Grey Worm, Marsalen. I can't expect to be appointed over the heads of people who've served her for years. But, there's a good chance that war is coming, with New Ghis and Qarth. The Queen has promised me a regiment, if war breaks out." 

"It's the least she can do."

"She's done a lot for us, Sansa". 

"We're family, Jon, and still we've been left to make our own way in the world. " 

"Let's change the subject. " He smiles; "I never thought of my sister running a bank. Look how you've risen in the world. Your home is beautiful." He has been out there to visit her on several occasions. "It is. It belongs to the bank's leading shareholder, but it's been placed at my disposal. In due course, I'll buy a villa of my own." They reach their destination, a fashionable waterfront tavern, where Sansa is taking Jon for dinner. 

They have a table in one of the windows, overlooking the bay. "I'm leaving in a week" she remarks. "I'll be gone for at least a year, maybe a year and a half. I'm sailing to Volantis, then to other Free Cities to win business for the institution. " A few days previously, she, Oznak, and other prominent bank officials had met the Treasurer of Meereen. They had submitted the papers of incorporation to him, and satisfied the man that the bank was solvent. He had issued a sealed licence, granting the Bank of the Graces the right to operate throughout Meereenese territory; the licence would be recognised as valid in Yunkai, Astapor, and Volantis, granting them the right to establish subsidiary branches in those cities. But, "I'll need to persuade the rulers of Braavos, Pentos, and Tyrosh, and Lys to give us a licence to establish branches there". 

"What I know about banking could be written on the back of a my hand, but aren't Tyrosh and Lys still slave cities?" 

"They are. Her Grace has made her views very plain about that to me." She remembers her interview with Daenerys, a couple of days previously. She had been admitted to Daenerys's solar, with only a couple of bodyguards and handmaids present. 

"Lady Sansa, or ought I to address you as "Your Highness"?, she began mischievously, as a maidservant poured them both tea. 

"It is simply a courtesy title your Grace. I claim no royal rank in your domains. When I was held a hostage at Kings Landing, there was a foreign prince in exile called Jalabar Xho. We always addressed him by his princely title." 

"It makes no odds to me. You can call yourself the First Sword of Braavos, for all I care. But, what I care very much is that you are now a representative of my realm abroad. The Bank of the Graces may be a private institution, but its behaviour will reflect credit, or disgrace, upon Meereen's merchants generally, in the eyes of the world. I believe that Lady Olenna has made this fact plain to you." 

"She has, your Grace. There will be no grounds for scandal."

"Good. Now, I believe that you plan to establish branches in Tyrosh and Lys. Those are, as you know, slave cities. I am in contact with the Sealord of Braavos. Between us, we hope that we can persuade them to abolish slavery, peacefully. But, it may be that it will come to war. I am prepared to allow the Bank of the Graces to operate in those cities, for the time being, but on no account must the Bank finance the purchase or sale of slaves. And, in the event that war does break out, the Bank must cease to operate in those places for the duration of hostilities. Is that clear?"

"Entirely, your Grace." 

"One final point. You are not an accredited envoy of Meereen. Nevertheless, you will be meeting the most important people in the Free Cities, in addition to your countrymen. I want you to correspond with me regularly, with your views on the political and financial situation in each of the states you visit. I don't expect you to spy, or break confidences, but simply to provide me with information. Serve me well in this, and I shall award you a title of chivalry on your return. " 

"I shall be honoured your Grace." For some time, the conversation turned to lighter matters; the Queen's child, her impressions of Meereenese society, before turning serious again. 

"I am truly sorry for all that you and your countrymen have suffered" she said gently. "I held no love for Queen Cersei, as you might imagine, but I would not wish her fate on my worst enemy. I wish that I could have helped you all, but I could not, without endangering my own subjects. Be sure to tell your countrymen that any one of them is welcome to settle in my realms."

"I shall, your Grace." _You could at least have made an effort to take back the Seven Kingdoms ___

Her thoughts turn back to Jon. A flagon of red wine has been placed on the table, and she pours for them both. "The Queen has offered me a title of chivalry, if I serve her well in the Free Cities. "

"Good." He changes the subject, melancholy again. Jon is never happy for long. "Poor Arya and Bran, if only they could be here with us. I don't think I'll ever forgive myself, that I could not save them." Sansa feels tears in her eyes. 

"We spent so long, fighting the Boltons, and preparing to resist the Dead, and it was all over in a single night. The North, gone forever." 

"Do the dead last forever? One day perhaps, our people will retake their land. Not in our lifetime, but maybe our grand -childrens'" 

"What would be there but ice, even if the Dead are no more? I've cried myself to sleep, thinking about it. But, this is our home, now. " 

They are interrupted by the arrival of dinner, a rack of lamb with greens, and pork with apricots. The food helps restore their spirits. Afterwards, they return to the barracks, where Jon now has his quarters, and Sansa's carriage is waiting. "I know it's wrong to hope for war" she comments "but it would be so good to see you get a command. Maybe, you'll be a general by the time I return. " She kisses him, and then climbs into the carriage.


	4. The Boiler Room

Sansa inhales a hefty dose of pearl dust, before stepping into the drawing room at the Triarchs' Palace. It calms her nerves, at least. "Her Highness, Princess Sansa Stark of Winterfell, " announces Oznak, to the crowd, about two hundred strong, a mix of Volantenes and Westerosi, as far as she can tell. They applaud politely, as she mounts the podium. She begins her pitch. She speaks in the Western tongue, while a scribe translates into the Valyrian dialect. 

"My lords, ladies and gentlemen, I bid you welcome. To those who have fled my homeland, I can only express my sympathy, and my sorrow. I hope you can build new lives under the wise rule of the Her Grace, Daenerys Targaryen. Our bank will do all it can to help you build those new lives. For the first time in hundreds of years, the great city of Volantis and the Bay of Dragons have a single monarch. Barriers to trade have been demolished, to the benefit of all. Trade and commerce flourish as never before. We can help you achieve the prosperity that is within the grasp of all those who are willing to work hard. 

With a deep understanding of the links between our clients’ personal and professional lives, the Bank of the Graces offers expertise across a range of sophisticated financial solutions – from banking and deposits to borrowing and protection. As more complex needs arise, our private bankers will call on our specialists for advice in keeping with your wider wealth. As part of a thriving network of experts, influencers and pioneers, being a client of the Bank opens doors to many opportunities. Powerful insight, extensive connections and carefully crafted events inspire, empower and challenge those we work with. Whatever their background, industry or experience, our clients innovate and reshape perceptions.

With insight and judgement shaped by working with wealthy individuals, we appreciate the subtlety and complexity of the lives they lead. Expert in the drivers of wealth generation and the intricacies of international and high net worth individuals, we are well placed to understand your needs. We are the bank of pioneers. Today we are proud to work with hundreds of innovative entrepreneurs from across the Bay of Dragons and the territory of Volantis. With extensive insight and expertise, we provide specialist advice and solutions at each stage of your wealth journey."

She wonders at this point if she is behaving entirely ethically. A Board meeting had been held prior to this reception. Naturally, she had assumed they would be discussing matters of high finance. Her fellow board members had other ideas;- 

"Is it really rude to call them freaks?" asked Bennero Maegyr, manager of the Volantene branch of the Bank. "I've always called them freaks." 

"Certainly, it's rude" replied Oznak. "In Meereen, we call them dwarves That is proper useage." 

"Not "Little People? " asked another Meereense, Grazdan Pahl. 

"I never heard anybody call them "Little People" said Oznak. 

"Excuse me, " asked Sansa "but what is the relevance of this." 

"Our staff in Volantis like to throw freaks, sorry dwarves, at targets. They wager on the outcome." 

"Throwing dwarves? That's horrible." 

"Relax your Highness," replies Grazdan, laughing. "A few years ago, we were throwing them to lions in Daznak's Pit, and betting on the outcome. And solid entertainment it was too, watching them running round, squealing like piglets." 

Sansa nearly threw up on the spot.

She gathers her thoughts and continues: "Whatever your profession, our dedicated specialists understand the risks, complexities and opportunities of commercial life and will work closely with you to provide the best solutions throughout each stage of your career and beyond. We understand that as our clients’ wealth evolves, so too do their needs. The Bank of the Graces is considered a financial centre of excellence for high net worth clients. The team is the ultimate embodiment of our commitment to delivering exceptional service, through our in-depth understanding of clients and the world in which they live. 

Last, but by no means least, at the heart of our business is a commitment to corporate social responsibility. We are committed to our responsibilities to respect and uphold human rights across our business and sphere of influence. Our approach to human rights is made in accordance with Queen Daenerys Targaryen's commitment to eradicate slavery". She worries about that last bit. The one piece of financial business that was discussed at the Board meeting related to a loan that was being made to a button manufactory in Astapor, to which children were being shipped from orphanages in Volantis. 

"But, this is illegal" she stated baldly. "The Queen has forbidden slavery"." 

"And we are committed to upholding the Queen's laws against slavery " replied Oznak smoothly. "These children are apprentices. They will learn a trade, and be educated. And, cease to be a burden to the taxpayers of Volantis." 

"Honour, Probity, Integrity" These are our watchwords," she concludes her presentation, to a further round of polite applause. For the next half hour, she fields a variety of questions about the Bank, much to Oznak's approval. "An excellent presentation, your Highness. We are holding a celebration on the Bank's yacht tonight. I trust that you will attend." So, she does, and witnesses the bankers' commitment to corporate social responsibility at first hand. " 

Maegyr steps up in front of his employees in the saloon, as Oznak looks on indulgently. "Your Highness, ladies and gentlemen, our work is done, and it's time for our monthly night of debauchery. Bring in the dwarves". Three dwarves are led in wrapped in thick leathers, for protection. "Place your bets", as two of the staff pick up the first. "Five, four, three, two, one" cries Maegyr, as the first dwarf is thrown at the archers' mark, landing with a loud thud. The crowd roars with laughter. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves, as numerous courtesans have been brought over from the city. Indeed, she has to step over a frantically courting couple on the deck. A string quartet starts playing wildly. The wine and pearl dust flow, although she ensures her own intake is moderate. She has not forgotten the Villa Loraq. A drunken courtesan barges into her. "May I help you?" Sansa enquires politely. "You could try sucking a cock or two" shrieks the woman, before cackling shrilly. She hurriedly walks away, to the prow of the ship, glass of wine in hand. She stares across the harbour at the city, beautiful in the setting Sun. She wonders whether she is doing the right thing, but finally, she concludes "different country, different customs".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone think it incredible that the members of a board of directors of a bank would be discussing dwarf-tossing, and behaving like this, I'd recommend watching The Wolf of Wall Street or reading Liars Poker by Michael Lewis. Similar stories abound across the world of finance. Most of Sansa's rhodomantade is taken from private banking websites. Sansa's behaviour is probably no worse than that of many modern company directors.
> 
> As a general rule of thumb, when you hear the words "corporate social responsibility " you should start counting the spoons.


	5. The Tide of Commerce

Daenerys sighs wearily, as she works by lamplight, in her study, reading state papers, and correspondence, and making notes. It is so late that she has told Missandei to retire to bed. There are nights when dawn is actually breaking, before she has finished. It seems this may be one of them. She spots Sansa's direwolf seal on a lengthy missive, and breaks it open, keen to read what she has to say about Volantis. After three pages she is groaning, at Sansa's detailed descriptions of the food, elephants, flora, buildings and weather of Volantis. _"Oh gods, this is not what I asked you for! _She reaches the fourth page, to be given a detailed account of the Black Walls and the inner city.__ _I don't want a travel guide _. And now, an account of a visit to a manufactory at Selhorys. But that, that turns out to be very interesting indeed. Much more interesting perhaps, than Sansa ever thought it would be.__

It's the stink that first hits Sansa, assailing her nostrils. The stink, followed by the heat. Bennero has taken her up the Rhoyne to Selhorys to see one of the new manufactories that are springing up across the country, in which the Bank is keen to purchase a shareholding. This one produces textiles. For the thousandth time, it occurs to Sansa just how primitive the North was. Most people wove their own cloth, or got their servants to do it. Rich people did buy cloth from handloom weavers, or occasionally, they purchased expensive materials from foreign merchants . But, this is something entirely different! Cloth being woven by machines! Who ever heard of such a thing? She coughs as she inhales the cotton dust that floats through the air. The manufactory is located on the banks of the Rhoyne, and the machines are driven by gears that are powered by water wheels, which turn continuously. She stares, fascinated, as the shuttles slide back and forth, producing cloth in unimaginable quantities. Workers scurry back and forth, dodging between and under the machines. She wonders how they avoid accidents. She notices armed guards, watching over the workers. Indeed, there were more than a score of guards located inside and outside the buildings. 

"Why do you need guards?" she asks the proprietor of the business, by now perspiring heavily. It is a hot day, and there is little ventilation in the building. "Discipline" he replies. "Most of these people used to work on their own account. But, they can't compete with the machines. We pay them a fraction of what they used to be earning. Naturally, they resent it. " He laughs. "The funny thing is, some of them used to be slaves. Maybe they should have counted their blessings."

"Isn't that unfair?" The man laughs again, along with Bennero. "You have a gentle heart your Highness, but money is money. Your bank sees us as a good investment, and rightly so. I pride myself on running the most profitable mill on the Rhoyne. As it happens, life has got rather easier since so many of your countrymen settled here. Many of them are desperate for work on any terms. And, of course, they apprentice their children with us."

"Children?" she asks. "How young?" 

"Four and upwards " the man replies. "Initially, I had them working on the looms, but you know how careless and clumsy children can be. There were some nasty accidents. So, we've got them making buttons next door. And, doing the jobs the adults don't want; clearing waste, mixing dyes, cleaning out chimneys and sewers. It's hard work, for low pay, but it's still preferable to working in brothels, or begging on the streets."

Sansa feels slightly nauseous. "There are children from the Seven Kingdoms, working in brothels?" she enquires, faintly. 

"Oh yes, your Highness. Right across the Free Cities. Not just from the Seven Kingdoms, but native orphans and the poor as well. Not, that I have any interest in that kind of activity, but I gather there's a steady demand for their services. But don't be too worried for them. They'd be starving to death otherwise."

"But, the Queen would not allow it?" The man just shrugs. "The Queen is a thousand miles away." 

_Maybe I've not had things so hard, after all? _she wonders, before recovering. She is a noblewoman. Of course, life would be worse for the Smallfolk. That's only natural. Still, children working in brothels! That can't be right ? Surely Daenerys would disapprove? After all, she built shelters for desperate people in Meereen._ Perhaps, I've misjudged her. _Either way, she makes a mental note to inform the Queen of this, when she writes to her.__

__"Business has never been better, " continues the proprietor. "Come, let me show you the books." Accounting has never been her strong point, but she can rely on Bennero, she hopes. They exit the building, and walk towards a single storey office. "We do have problems with agitators among the workers, however. They call themselves socialists or some such. They preach sedition. They want to overthrow their betters._ _

__"What do they say of the Queen's Grace?"_ _

__"They are lying hypocrites. They claim to be grateful to the Queen for liberating slaves, but some say that even the Queen should submit herself for election to the people, if she expects to rule them."_ _

__"That's treason!" comments Sansa sharply. "She should have their tongues out for that!"_ _

__"Now you're talking my language, your Highness. I fear that the Queen's desire to free slaves has given some of them ideas above their station in life. Not, that I'm criticising her Grace of course, " he adds hurriedly.__

__In the man's office, they examine the books. "These figures seem entirely satisfactory" comments Bennero, after a while. "I recommend that the Bank purchases a half share in this business, subject to our due diligence of course," he comments to Sansa. He proposes a sum to the proprietor. The man affects dismay. For the next hour, they haggle over the price, before eventually reaching agreement. The two men shake hands, and then the owner holds out his hand to Sansa, who shakes it. "Our notaries will draw up the purchase agreement" she declares._ _

__Children working in brothels! Daenerys is horrified. Time and again, she stamps out an abuse, only to see it reappear in a new form. She feels a good deal of unease at Sansa's description of the manufactory as well. (And, no, she won't take up Sansa's suggestion that she tear out the tongues of agitators. That would be far too much like her father.) She didn't liberate slaves, only to wish to see them and the freeborn Smallfolk made destitute. But, what to do? The world is changing fast, in part due to her anti-slavery campaign. Deprived of their slaves, the rich are turning to machines instead. No, this is something she needs to discuss with her council. A clear,visible enemy, like the Ghiscari masters, she can defeat. But, the tide of commerce? Who can stand against that?_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. In book canon, Volantis does have elections, among the freeholders. So, the idea is not outlandish. I am showing the very early stages of an industrial revolution, prompted in part by Daenerys' determination to eliminate slavery. Socialism as an idea grew up pretty much simultaneously with industrialisation. 
> 
> 2\. It's worth commenting on child labour. Child labour was simply the norm throughout most of history (and still is in much of the world). Peasants would expect their children to help tend crops and beasts, and do chores around the house. Children of the better off might well go to school, but could certainly be expected to assist in their parents' businesses. Highborn children would be serving as pages, cupbearers, squires, ladies' companions etc. But, in general, such labour would not be physically damaging. Most parents don't want to injure their children, after all. Neither Sansa nor Daenerys would be concerned by that type of labour. Admittedly, child workers can be abused in any society.
> 
> However, children working in factories and mines would be exposed to dangerous machinery, and noxious chemicals, and cleaning chimneys is extremely dangerous work. And, while the age of consent is lower in this world than in most modern countries, there is such a thing as an age of consent, and most people would consider child prostitution abhorrent. Daenerys would recognise that child prostitutes are slaves in all but name.


	6. An Affair of Honour

Brienne presses Jon hard. She jabs at his head, right and left, as he ducks away from each blow, before aiming a swift cut at his neck. He blocks it, just, sending a jarring pain up his arm. Time to play rough. He aims a sharp kick, which catches her shin, causing her to hiss with pain, as she jumps back. Warily, they circle each other, each searching for an opening. They train together most mornings, with practice swords, honours being roughly even. But, they will not be given the chance to finish this fight. A centurion of Unsullied calls out to them. "The Prefect needs to see you, now. " They follow him. Jon has occasionally spoken to Grey Worm, but he is no more than a nodding acquaintance. They walk through the main square in front of the barracks, to a two storey building where Grey Worm has his office. As they enter, he rises to greet them.

"Please be seated" he says. Then, he begins, without preamble "I'd like to know a lot more about both of your military experience. In my view, war with New Ghis is coming. There will be a place for experienced soldiers in that war, and it would be a waste to leave you both in the City Guard in that case. Ser Brienne?" 

"I spent seven years, fighting across Westeros" she replies. "I have served as a bodyguard, fought in numerous battles. I've fought with lance, sword, poleaxe, and Warhammer. My last fight was against the Dead" she finishes, sadly. 

"A complete horror story. I can't begin to imagine what it must have been like to confront actual demons. " They remain silent for a while. Then "You have a fine reputation as a fighter, but do you have experience of command?" 

"Only of small numbers of men." 

"But, I hear good things about your record in the City Guard. If you wish, I could commission you as an officer in the Unsullied. I expect the other commanders will be putting offers your way, too. I want to pre-empt them." 

"I should be honoured, my lord." 

"I wouldn't be doing this, if I didn't think you'd be a valuable addition to the division. I'm afraid it would be at the lowest level, junior centurion, but I'm confident you'd work your way up to Tribune."

"My lord" he turns to Jon. "I believe you have exercised command. Tell me about it." 

"I recaptured Winterfell, from the man who had usurped it. I defeated him in the field, despite superior numbers, and then I took the castle. Prior to that, I was Lord Commander of the Nights Watch. I fought the Dead at Hardhome, in order to rescue civilians. I defended Castle Black from attack. In fairness, I must add that my sister, Lady Sansa, played a valuable role at the Battle of Winterfell, leading an attack on the enemy that took them by surprise, and turned the tide of battle. Then, there was the final fight against the Dead. That was a disaster". Jon falls silent again, recalling that awful night. 

"There is no shame in that," says Grey Worm, eventually. "I think no one could have done more than you and the other defenders. You have considerable experience of commanding men. I assume that you must familiar with supplies and logistics?"

"Yes, we spent the best part of a year provisioning Winterfell, as we awaited attack. And, of course, I had to keep the Nights Watch fed and armed."

"Good. I understand that in the event of war, you will be offered command of a regiment. That is a high honour, and I shan't blame you if you prefer it to my offer. My chief of staff is shortly to retire. I will need a replacement who can discuss ideas with me, and who can help convert my plans into detailed instructions to my subordinates. In short, someone who can both take and give orders. It won't be as glamorous as a regimental command, but I think you'll be of greater use to the army in that role, and it would be a better use of your talents. You'd retain your rank in the regular army, but I'll recommend to the Queen's Grace that she promote you to major."

_Chief of Staff to Grey Worm.! A huge mark of favour. But, is he just doing this a favour to the Queen?_

__Almost as if he can read his mind, Grey Worm remarks "I'm not doing a favour. I think it's a role you'd be well suited for."_ _

__"Then of course." Grey Worm rises and shakes hands with them both. saying "Welcome to my team of officers." They make small talk for a while, before departing. The pair of them enter the officers' mess, where wine is being served prior to dinner. He notices a captain who detests him, Fallow. The man is a long-serving officer, and plainly considers that Jon was only commissioned because he was the Queen's nephew. He never ceases to direct barbs in his direction, along with his cronies. He sits with three of them drinking and playing cards. Seeing Jon, he rises and gives him a mocking bow, saying "We are honoured indeed by your presence tonight, your Highness.". Jon ignores him, suspecting the man has had far too much to drink. Jon and Brienne walk away from him, and accept wine from one of the servants, before talking together. Fallow returns to his card game. Jon suspects that further insults are being directed at him, as the four glance in his direction, sniggering.__

__Then the man oversteps the mark, saying too loudly. "As for his sister, she might call herself a Princess, but I doubt if any man of honour would consider her to be a lady". The room falls silent, as Jon begins to feel an icy rage. He rises and strides over to him._ _

__"Do you have something to say about my sister?"_ _

__"Why don't you ask her yourself, about the sorts of parties she likes going to?"_ _

__Jon masters himself, remaining outwardly calm. "You will apologise to me now, and you will apologise to my sister on her return to Meereen"._ _

__"Fuck yourself!"._ _

__"I was hoping for that answer." Jon draws out a leather glove from his pocket, considers for a moment, and then hurls it into the man's sneering face._ _

__"You'll die for that, bastard!" yells Fallow. He leaps up, making to draw his sword. "End this now" shouts the presiding officer, Major Reznak. He stalks over, furious. "You have insulted the sister of a brother officer. He has very properly chastised you for it. You have two choices, if you wish to avoid being dismissed the service. Either apologise to him now, or call him out, and this matter will be settled at dawn. You will not draw your sword in the mess."_ _

__Fallow is trapped. But, he cannot back down, and retain any credit in the City Guard. "I'll meet you at dawn, Snow." He names one of his cronies as his second. Brienne agrees to act as Jon's._ _

__Sleep escapes Jon, as he lies on his cot. He might be dead in a few hours time, as Fallow is a competent swordsman. Was he right to provoke a challenge? He could hardly do nothing as the man insulted Sansa in front of his fellow officers. And what was that reference to "parties she likes going to?" Surely, she has not disgraced herself? It must be just a malicious slander. He has never asked Sansa for details about what the Beast of Bolton did to her, but he knows she was horribly abused. Enough, he imagines, to rid her of any desire for physical intimacy in her life. His thoughts turn back to the morning's fight, and the tactics he'll adopt._ _

__At last, the sky begins to lighten. He splashes cold water in his face, and dresses. Neither of them is to wear armour for the duel. Brienne knocks on his door, and together they descend to the training yard outside the barracks. Major Reznak is waiting, with his adjutant and several guardsmen. Fallow and his second arrive a few minutes later._ _

__Reznak steps forward, and speaks "Captain Fallow, are you prepared to issue an apology to Captain Snow?"_ _

__"I am not."_ _

__"Captain Snow, do you insist that Captain Fallow apologises to you?"_ _

__"I do."_ _

__"Very well. The duel will last until one of you is killed, or incapacitated, or yields. Understand this. If either one of you offers to yield, that is an end to the matter." Both men assent._ _

__There is a sudden commotion. The Queen appears, surrounded by a knot of Unsullied. She looks furious. News evidently travels fast! The assembled soldiers bow to her. "I will not have my soldiers killing each other. This duel will not take place!" She turns to Fallow._ _

__"I know what you said, and what you have said in the past. You are not fit to be an officer. You are reduced to the ranks, with immediate effect. Now, get out of my sight." Fallow is shocked, and seems about to protest. But, common sense wins out in the end. He slinks off, with his second. "As for you Jon, you should know far better than to let yourself be provoked by that scum. Grey Worm wants you for his chief of staff. I'll not have you in that role, if you can't keep your temper under control. I want your word, that you will never again fight a duel. Do I have it?"_ _

__"Your Grace, I promise it."_ _

__"Good, now return to your quarters."_ _

__Jon turns and walks away with Brienne. Despite his aunt's rebuke, he can't help smiling. Fallow has received a far worse punishment than anything he could have inflicted on the man._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The City Guard uses similar military ranks to the British army. The Unsullied, in the books, have a ranking system similar to that of the Roman Army, so I have kept that here. Converting Roman ranks into British military ranks is difficult, given that the structure of a legion was different to that of a regiment. In rough terms, the rank of centurion would be equivalent to anything between first lieutenant and major, depending on seniority. A tribune would be roughly equivalent to either a major or a lieutenant colonel, depending on seniority. 
> 
> 2\. Jon is being rather generous to Sansa about the Battle of Winterfell. Although the Vale Knights turned the tide of the battle, it was stupid of Sansa not to mention to Jon that they were in the vicinity, and certainly cost lives.
> 
> 3\. I think Dany is being slightly unfair to Fallow, not so much in terms of the punishment, but more because his punishment should have been fixed by a court martial. Reznak could expect a tongue-lashing at her hands too, for allowing the duel.


	7. The Iron Bank

_"My Dear Lady Sansa, Health and Great Joy,_

_I am extremely grateful that you have drawn to my attention the abuse and rape of children in my dominions. Rest assured that I have instructed the city councils at Astapor and Yunkai to root out this evil, and shall be sending envoys to Volantis to command likewise. It seems that no sooner do I stamp out one abuse than it arises in a fresh guise. I have outlawed enslavement of human beings throughout my domains, yet what else but slaves are children who are trafficked into whoredom?_

_I read with great interest your account of conditions in the manufactory on the Rhoyne. This fills me with unease. I do not wish to see the Smallfolk reduced to destitution by the use of machinery. My initial inclination was to outlaw the use of such devices. But, I have discussed this further with Lady Sarella Sand, who studied for many years at the Citadel, and who informs me that the Smallfolk benefit from the reduced price of cloth, which is created in far greater quantities than any handloom weaver can produce. I must confess, I do not fully understand such matters. It is a dilemma. Am I to see my subjects deprived of an honest living, or am I to deny them the benefits of cheaper clothing? Likewise, I would sooner see children being taught to read and learn arithmetic than having to expose themselves to dangers at work. Lady Sand has established a school for children from poor families, which is attached to her library. My intention is to create more such schools in the future. But again, I am pulled in two directions. If I prevent children from working, then their families may go hungry. As ever, moral progress is a case of two steps forward, one step backwards._

_I will not take up your suggestion of ripping out tongues. The ability to express what one believes is the truest sign that one is living in a free country. Please put this out of your mind. Please focus, too, on political and financial affairs in your letters. Fascinating as the elephants of Volantis are, I am already acquainted with them_

_With kindest regards, Daenerys of House Targaryen, Queen of Meereen, Astapor, and Yunkai, Protector of Volantis"_

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Sansa frowns at the last slight rebuke. She was only trying to be helpful, after all. At least the Queen appreciates her comments about the child whores. The thought of it makes her shudder, bringing back nasty memories of Petyr Baelish, and Ramsay Bolton. She still has scars on her body from the Beast, which will probably never fade entirely. Her business partners are enthusiastic lechers, but at least they have no sordid interest in children that she knows of. The performance at the Villa Loraq was stimulating, up to a point, but she has no desire to be intimate with another person ever again. 

She sighs as she reads through the stack of papers on her desk. She has proved adept at promoting the bank to depositors, but this is the most dismal part. Reading through, and then signing and sealing, security documents. In truth, she scarcely understands most of them, but they have been approved by notaries working for the Bank, so they must be above board. She reads an agreement for a substantial loan by the Bank to one of Oznak's businesses. It is to be secured by a mortgage over substantial estates in the hinterland of Meereen. But, the problem is, he does not own them. He is working in the next room, so she immediately discusses the matter with him. 

"Your Highness, I have exchanged contracts for the purchase of these lands" he explains. "The transfer of ownership into my name is a mere formality, which will be completed on our return to Meereen." One of the notaries working with Oznak speaks up "Your Highness, that is entirely correct. The equitable ownership in the estates has passed to Master Galare. The Bank has no worries here." _Well, the man is a notary, he knows what he is talking about. _. And, Oznak has been very decent to her, even if his private life is a bit louche.__

__"No problem, then. I'll sign and seal the agreement."__

__"I am obliged." She returns to her room, to seal the agreement, which she hands to a scribe. She now has a far more pleasant engagement. Lunch with the representative of the Iron Bank in Volantis, Madame Carlot dan Eider. Although the two banks are competitors, nevertheless, they can be collaborators. Banks need other banks to underwrite their ventures. That means dividing the profits, but also, spreading the risks. The Iron Bank insures the merchant marine of Braavos. The Bank of the Graces will be willing to participate such business, in return for a share of the fees. She has met Madame Carlot, a handsome woman of late middle age, socially, and found her company delightful._ _

__They dine in the finest eatery in the city, situated on the edge of a cliff which overlooks the Bay. They discuss their hopes and fears, and Sansa finds herself warming to the older woman, before she asks:-_ _

__"What do you know of Oznak Galare?"_ _

__"He is, in all likelihood, the richest man in Meereen, an extremely successful investor and businessmen"_ _

__"Hmm. He has no background in banking that I know of, yet he has established a bank. And, my own enquiries suggest that he may not be anything like as rich as she claims. Men tend to draw attention to their assets, while ignoring their debts. He has substantial debts."_ _

__Sansa is surprised, before saying "But, he honours his debts, surely?"_ _

__"As far as I am aware, he does, But, if business falters, or the value of property falls, well, all sorts of people who seem to be wealthy will turn out to owe more than they own. I'm very sorry, but I cannot recommend to my Board of Directors that the Iron Bank allow the Bank of the Graces to underwrite insurance contracts on our behalf. You have little track record, and I am unconvinced of your solvency."_ _

__Sansa looks horrified, and Carlot tries to lessen the blow. "At least not yet. If your bank were to prove itself as a solvent and successful operation, then I would be happy to reconsider. "_ _

__"Do you hold it against my associates that some of them used to be slavers?"_ _

__"Not in the least. The Iron Bank does not finance slaving, but we do of course, have trading relationships with slave states. It is something of a moral dilemma for us. Any form of trade with slavers at least indirectly helps to keep slavery in existence. But, we can hardly impose an embargo on our neighbours."_ _

__"Tell me, Sansa, what did you do before you became a Bank's Magistra. I was not aware that your country had any banking industry of significance."_ _

__She looks sheepish, before admitting to the horrid truth, "I was a seamstress"._ _

__"That's nothing to be ashamed of. Many people of high birth fall on hard times. My father was a bankrupt noble of Braavos. When I was sixteen, he sold me to a Magister of Pentos, four times my age, who wanted a noble wife. He made little in the way of physical demands on me; rather, I was just an expensive item in his hoard. After, his death, I ran his businesses, but there was a revolution. I fled the city with just the clothes on my back. I turned my hand to anything, in order to survive. I have been a spy, a prospector for gold in the far North, the madam of a brothel, and the owner of a gambling den. Eventually, I found myself working for the Iron Bank, and rose through their ranks. In truth, I'm not convinced that banking is any more reputable, whatever the world might think._ _

__I am not sure whether you are suited to career in banking. If you have skill at embroidery, you should exploit it. With royal patronage, you might go very far."_ _

__Sansa is shocked at what she has just heard. "You think I'm worthless? I thought you were a friend."_ _

__"I hope you will always think of me as a friend. I think that you are an outstanding saleswoman. I've seen you perform. I could even offer you a position with the Iron Bank in such a role. But, I am not sure that you entirely understand what you are selling. Please accept my advice in the spirit in which it is offered."_ _

__Sansa has rarely felt so hurt. She knows what she is doing, yet now she's being told she's stupid. She finishes her meal in silence before leaving._ _

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Regarding Oznak's estate, the distinction between equitable and legal ownership is critical under English and US law. Banks will not accept an equitable title as security for loans. Obviously, Sansa's knowledge of the law of real property is limited
> 
> 2\. Carlot dan Eider is a character in the First Law Trilogy, by Joe Abercrombie, whose career is much as described here.


	8. Trouble At the Mill

Sansa rises early, a bath already prepared by her maid. As always, she admires the mosaics and tilework of her bathchamber, a dazzling set of geometric patterns, in blue, turquoise and gold, as she takes her ease in the scented waters. The palace of the Triarchs, where she and Oznak reside, is indeed sumptuous. The Triararchs still live here, nominally the rulers of Volantis, yet governed in effect from Meereen. She has received word from the Queen that Grey Worm is being sent as her plenipotentiary to the city, to enforce a series of edicts, drafted by Lady Sarella, which are designed to improve the conditions of workers in the mills, and to root out the evil of child prostitution once and for all. In her letter, the Queen also pointed out that Jon had been made his chief of staff, and would accompany him. Such a pity she is due to set sail for Lys, this very morning. She would have loved to see him again. As it happens, she will eventually get her wish, but not in the way she would have wanted.

After breaking her fast, she takes a carriage to the docks, only to be met by Bennero Maegyr on the waterfront. "Change of plan, your Highness. There is word of unrest in Selhorys. We're needed there."

"What type of unrest?"

"Strikes, machine-breaking, arson. " Not too long ago, she would have had no idea what a "strike" was. Now, she understands that it means workers refusing to labour, until their demands are met. Something unheard of in her old life. Machine-breaking? Well, that's understandable, she supposes. People would obviously resent being put out of business. Arson sounds alarming. Especially, now that the bank owns half of a manufactory.

"Where's Oznak?" 

"Bugger's already set sail. Thank the gods you're still here!" 

"I'll come with you, but I can't say I've any experience of handling these matters." 

"Everyone knows the Triararchs have no real power now. They'll bury their heads in the sand, and wait for Grey Worm to arrive. That could be weeks away. But, you're a member of the royal family, a close friend of the Queen. You can lead a crackdown on the workers, have the ringleaders hanged and tortured. Put a bit of stick about, and make them jump!" 

Gods above! That was a part of her old life that she hoped to leave behind her. Nor does she suppose that Daenerys would view her as a close friend! Although, she has allowed the bank to give potential investors precisely that impression. 

"I did have men executed at Winterfell" she answers cautiously _Ask the Beast of Bolton, or Littlefinger."_ "But, only the worst of criminals. And I have no power to order any such things here!"

"You've got to step up to the mark! Otherwise we'll all be strung up!" She realises the man is panicking. 

"As I said, I'll come to Selhorys. But, I think we need to conciliate the Smallfolk. We can tell them about the Queen's new laws . " To be honest, the treatment of many of the Smallfolk in the Rhoyne Valley does disturb her. Yes, her family had power of life and death over the people of the North. But, when all was said and done, Winterfell was a drafty old castle and while she had some luxuries, like silk dresses, hot running water, and lemon cakes, their life there was very spartan, especially in the final months. It's not like they lived in splendour, while their tenants were crowded ten to a room. Before the nightmare that befell her family, her mother would take her to distribute alms to the poor of Wintertown, and make her tend to old servants who had fallen sick. But, there is very little charity in this new world. The gap between the highborn and the smallfolk is raw, frightening, even. The poor are mostly freedmen, the rich mostly former masters, resulting in a degree of bitterness that did not exist at home. Some of the tales about slavery she heard in Meereen made her shudder, but is this really much better? 

Her colleague screws his face up in disgust. "A few months ago, you were talking about ripping out the tongues of agitators! " 

"And, the Queen has made it quite clear that she does not favour ripping out tongues. You may want to get on her wrong side. I don't!"

_I'm defending Daenerys! Unthinkable, a short while ago ___

"You know what her worst mistake was? Setting these people free! They knew their place, back then. Now they think they're as good as us!" 

"You go too far."

A couple of hours later, they board a fast galley, along with several bank employees, bound for Selhorys. As they travel, she can see signs of disorder everywhere. Several mills on the banks of the river have clearly been burnt out. Here and there, men are hanging from gibbets, erected at the bank of the river. Armed galleys stop them on several occasions, their captains demanding to know their business. They shake their heads when they tell them where they are bound. 

"I hope you know your business" says the last. "I wouldn't be setting foot in Selhorys right now. Wait till the army marches in and starts breaking heads." 

"We're hoping to prevent heads from being broken," she replies. Eventually, they reach the docks of the sandstone city, in late afternoon. There are few ships, but plenty of watchful guards. Former tiger soldiers, she guesses. The slave soldiers of Volantis were freed, but most of them remained in post, following the only trade they knew. She wonders which side they will take if there is an uprising. She rides in a carriage with Bennero, and her maid, guarded by outriders. The bank staff follow in a second carriage. She can see that things are bad as they ride down the main thoroughfare. Shops and office buildings are mostly barricaded. There are crowds milling about, but not the usual shoppers, and workers. They are watchful, sullen, hostile. They may not know who she is, but they know that anyone in a carriage is highborn. A couple of stones are even flung in their direction. Eventually, they arrive at an ornate gothic building, the city hall, to find it heavily guarded. 

"Her Highness, Princess Sansa Stark" announces Bennero loudly, to a group of city councillors. They virtually grovel on the spot. "You're a godsend!" proclaims the Mayor. For the first time (but it won't be the last) she realises just how foolish she was to give herself a royal title. These people think she has a level of power she simply doesn't possess. Still, she needs to keep calm. "We're meeting representatives of the workers" the man continues. "You can speak to them. Bring them to their senses.' 

"Allow me time to powder my nose" she replies. In the privy, she inhales several drafts of the pearl dust that she always keeps on her person. It settles her nerves, and she enters the council chamber. About a dozen men and women are there, talking to the councillors. The Valyrian dialect that is spoken here is not so different to that of Meereen which she has picked up, over time, so she can understand them well enough. After she has been introduced, the chief spokesman of the workers addresses her, politely enough, but without fawning. He outlines their grievances; the low wages, the long hours, the dangerous work, the adulterated bread and beer, the ill treatment of children. It appears that in some mills, children have been flogged for poor work. She feels slightly nauseous, at one tale of a child being roasted alive in a chimney, after getting trapped there while cleaning it. 

Sansa addresses them. "Good men and women. You know that her Grace, Queen Daenerys, cares for the smallfolk. She is the Breaker of Chains." They bow their heads respectfully at the mention of the Queen, a good start. She then goes on to outline the laws that are intended to better their conditions. "If you have any additional grievances" she adds, "present them to Grey Worm. He is a freedman. He will be sympathetic. But, please return to work, while we await his arrival." She can see she has made a good impression. 

"That seems fair" comments the spokesman. "We can trust Grey Worm, I'm sure." His colleagues nod approvingly. Her heart soars. She has ended the unrest. So she might have done. But, then the bad things happen. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Children being flogged, roasted in chimneys, and the adulteration of food and beer were all unpleasant features of the early years of the Industrial Revolution.
> 
> 2\. Regan X's main story shows Daenerys establishing a rudimentary welfare state in Meereen. At the same time, I envisage that more freedmen have prospered there, under Dany's direct supervision, than in Selhorys, not least because the upper ranks of the armed forces are freedmen. So the former masters have to behave themselves. Hence class conflict is more bitter in Selhorys than Meereen.


	9. The Eruption of Selhorys

There is general agreement on the part of surviving eye witnesses to the meeting between the city council and the workers' representatives that Sansa acted sensibly and decently in Selhorys. This will in fact be an important point in her favour, when she is later brought to trial in Meereen, on charges of fraud, theft, obtaining property by deception, and enslavement. She might even have been hanged for the last, under Queen Daenerys's stringent laws, as one other board member was, if she had been found guilty. There is no such agreement as to how the city erupted in revolt. Some argue that the guards at the city hall began loosing bolts on the demonstrators gathered outside. Others say that the workers attempted to storm the building. Perhaps it does not matter. The situation was highly charged, and who struck first is in a sense irrelevant.

The Mayor calls for refreshments to celebrate the conclusion of a fair bargain. As the councillors and workers' representatives stand sipping wine, Sansa hears a growing clamour. She walks to the window, and peers down into the square below. Her blood runs cold. Hundreds of men and women are pelting the guards with stones and brickbats. In turn, the guards loose volleys of arrows and bolts into the crowd. The clamour turns into screaming. "All hell's broken loose" she yells. 

"Kill them!"shrieks Bennero, pointing at the workers' representatives. 

Guards look puzzled at the Mayor, who breaks in panic. "Yes, kill them. Kill them all!" 

"No!" she screams, but it is too late. A score of guards draw their swords, and fall on the men and women, cutting them down on the spot. She will never forget the look of utter betrayal that the spokesman gave her, as a guard drove his sword through the man's heart. 

"You fucking idiots!" she cries.

"They were traitors" replies Bennero. "You'll tell the Queen that". 

"I'll tell her no such thing. " She storms out of the room, and heads downstairs. As she reaches the entrance to the building, she sees that the crowd has largely dispersed. But, there are three hundred thousand people living in Selhorys. Four fifths of them used to be slaves. If they all rebel, they'll tear the city council limb from limb. _And me too. Sansa Stark, the Princess of Winterfell who was nailed to a cross!" _Not a pleasant thought. No, it's time to get back to the galley on the Rhoyne. If the manufactory goes up in flames, well too bad! She's not risking her life to save it. Her carriage is waiting, along with the outriders, and her maid. Fuck Bennero! He can take his own chances. "To the docks" she commands the coachman and they set off, at a fast trot. At first all goes well. The streets are empty, and they are more than halfway to the docks, before the trouble begins. The coach halts, and she peers out. Across the street, a barricade of of furniture and other items has been built. Men stand on it and behind, some armed with pikes or crossbows. The gods know where they got them, but they look as if they mean business.__

__"Best to get back inside, Highness" says one of the outriders. "We can try another route." They return part of the way they have come, before striking out down a side street. They have only gone a couple of hundred yards, before running into trouble. The street is blocked with men and women, many of them armed. They can't fight them. She steps out of the carriage and addresses them. "Good people, allow us to return to the docks. I shall bring your grievances personally to Queen Daenerys, if only you let us pass."__

__"Fuck you, and fuck the Queen" replies one brute, striding towards her menacingly. She hears her maid screaming behind her, even as one of the outriders spurs his horse forward, cutting down the man who threatens her. There is a stunned silence. Then, dozens of people run towards them, furious, plainly intent on revenge. Panicking, she runs back to the carriage, then down a side alley, which seems to be free of trouble. Gods, judging by the smell, half the city uses the alley as a privy, but she has no time to worry about that. She just lets panic take over as she runs, and maybe that is for the best. In a situation like that, fear is the best friend you have. A heroine might not stand and fight, but she might stand still and take stock, and that would be fatal, especially as she hears pursuing footsteps. She runs perhaps half a mile, before darting through an open gate in a fence, leading to a warehouse. The stench! It smells like a midden. She tries a door to the building, which opens, thankfully, and darts in. She is in a large chamber, filled with huge barrels, and exhausted, hides behind one of them. She can run no further. Fortunately, no one follows her. It seems her pursuers have run past. She shakes uncontrollably, a nervous reaction. A rough tarpaulin lies next to her, and she hauls it over her. Perhaps no one will notice her under it, if they do enter the building. Without realising, she gradually drifts into unconsciousness.__

__Things go less well for Bennero. He emerges from the city hall to find that both carriages have gone. One of the guards tells him curtly to get back in the building. Not bloody likely. When the crowds return, they'll overwhelm them and burn the place down. No, he'll take his chances on his own. He steps back inside, and offers one of the council servants an outrageous sum to change clothes. Hurriedly, he pulls on the rough wool breeches, and leather jerkin that the man gave to him. Dressed as one of the Smallfolk, he should be able to make it back to the docks. Oh, and he'll get his own back on that bitch, who just took off and left him the lurch! Slavery might be illegal, but he knows men who can kidnap a highborn woman and sell her into a brothel. He'd pay a small fortune to watch the stuck up Princess of Winterfell having to suck pricks as though her life depended on it! Maybe they'll take requests. With a dirk strapped to his waist, he leaves the building, and sets off across the square. He reaches the street, leading to the docks and strikes out. So far so good. There are crowds, gathering in the street, angry crowds, but in him, they see a servant, one of them. He passes a barricade, built across the street, but the men behind it are not interested in him; no doubt they'll be stringing up all the highborn before long. Not much more than a mile to go now. He's home free. Until a high pitched voice cries out:-_ _

__"I know you! " He turns. A fucking dwarf! "You like tossing us. Freaks, you prefer to call us." The man whistles, and half a dozen more dwarves run up, surrounding him. They have knives in their hands. "I was good to you. I gave you work. You don't know how lucky you are!" he screams._ _

__"Doesn't matter. This is the day of revolution." He feels a sudden pain at the back of his right knee, and collapses. Hamstrung. One of them lunges at his chest with a knife. He blocks the blow with his own dirk, only to feel a vicious pain in the back, almost red hot it seems. He rolls forward, as blow after blow rains down, until he knows nothing.__

__Sansa gradually drifts back into consciousness, a couple of hours later. She is a aware of a pressure in her ribs. Waking up, she realises it's a young woman, nudging her with her boot. The woman looks grimy, plainly one of the workers. She stares down grimly at her, and calls out. Two rough-looking men come over, and she fears something awful is about to happen. Fortunately, the woman speaks first, and the men defer to her. "She's not be harmed. " She squats down, staring into her face, before asking "So tell me, how does a_ Royal Princess_ find herself hiding in a tallow chandler's?" 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps it was a mistake to call this story "fairly light-hearted" at the outset. As ever, it grew in the telling.


	10. How The Other Half Live

Sansa has never imagined herself pissing into a bucket used by three other people. The others avert their gaze, but it is still hugely embarrassing for her. Nor for that matter, queuing hours for food, or for the use of a water pump. For the past fortnight, she has been a sharing a room with the woman who found her, and the two men, who it turns out are her brothers. Her name is Taena, and the brothers are Ezzelino and Sylvio. The four of them share one room in a tenement that stinks of boiled cabbage and blocked drains. Yet, she has become aware that there are people of their class living in much worse conditions than that. Awful as her situation is, it could be far, far worse. If anything, Taena is a guardian angel. 

Back in the tallow chandler's she'd said "They'll string you up , if they see you wearing that dress. Or worse. Sylvio, find her something. " Eventually, he returns with a pair of rough wool trousers and cotton tunic, and a headscarf. Sansa changes out of her dress. "And your hair marks you out. No one has red hair and blue eyes in this city. Give me a knife." Sylvio hands it to her. "Sorry about this, but I've got to crop you. " Sansa thinks of protesting. But, what are her tresses compared to staying alive? She bows her head as the other woman cuts her hair short. "Now, wrap the scarf round your head, and you'll look the rest of us. Long hair just means lice." Lice. She had thought that only filthy people had lice. For the first time, it occurs to her that simply staying clean must be a constant struggle for these people. "How did you get that scar?" asks Taena. She realises that her makeup must have worn off. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you" she replies. "Lots of people round here have injuries. It's good. It will help you fit in."

"How do you know who I am?" 

"Huh, your appearance marks you out for one thing. And, people know you're thick with the Queen." 

"It didn't do me much good. They were about to tear me to pieces." 

"People go mad when they're in crowds. They're out killing all the highborn, and burning their houses. I don't blame them. My parents were freedmen, but we were no better off than the slaves. The masters still treated us like shit. When the Queen gave freedom to all the slaves, they all thought life would be better. Well, it is. The masters can't beat them or rape them as they please any more. But, they hurt them in other ways. And, only the masters can vote. That pisses them off. " 

"So, why are you helping me?" 

"You'll find out."

That night, she finds Taena climbing into bed with her. Alarmed at first at her intentions, she suddenly realises that a bed to herself was another of the luxuries that she had taken for granted most of her life, save for the fight against the Dead, when she'd slept with Arya. She sees that the two brothers also share a bed. 

"Would you get a reward for betraying me?" she whispers in bed, a few nights later. She's not sure she wants to know the answer. But, she's still puzzled why the woman and her brothers are helping her. 

"Oh, I think so. There are workers' committees offering rewards for bringing in the highborn. Most of them are just wankers, out to steal everything in sight. They'll kill the highborn alright, but they'll kill anyone they call a "collaborator" or a shopkeeper who has goods they want. You're worth far more to us than that." 

"What do you mean?"

"You're our way out of this shithole. The highborn will come back, with soldiers. They'll be stringing us up, right, left, and centre. I'm expecting you to speak up for me and my brothers, when that time comes." 

"There's something you should know, Taena. The Queen is sending Grey Worm to Volantis. He's a freedman. He'll be on your side. When he comes here, he won't be murdering the Smallfolk. The Queen has passed laws to improve your lives. His job is to enforce them." 

"Maybe you're right, maybe you're wrong. We're not taking that chance. But, there's more. You see how we live. And, we're luckier than many. Life is hell for most of us. You're doing well if you reach thirty. There are diseases, bad water, bad drains, bad food. And then there's winter. I've seen people just frozen to death in the snow. It gives me the shivers, I can tell you! I want you to get us out of here. Give us decent jobs, maybe in your own home, or with the Queen. That's not a lot to ask for, in return for saving your life, is it?" 

"I think it's the least I can do, in the circumstances."

It becomes clear just how things have fallen apart, over the course of that fortnight. Trade and commerce have virtually come to a standstill across the city. Food is now running short. She learns that the surviving masters have set up a blockade with the aid of the soldiers. Fighting their way into the city might be impossible, but they can just wait for famine to do its job. Gods, she hopes Grey Worm will make it here before long! She and the others paid one visit to the main square of the city, and she rather wishes she hadn't. Even after several days, she recognised the city Mayor, nailed to a cross, along with a dozen others; city councillors, she guesses. A row of blackened stakes in the square suggests that other methods are being used to dispose of the enemies of the people. That could have been her!

One night, she tells them how she came by her scar. They listen in shocked silence. 

"I wouldn't have believed you" comments Sylvio. "But, I've spoken to people who fled your country. They say the same things. There are some who say the Queen sacrificed herself to save them." 

"Cersei?" she asks, astonished. "She was vile. I suffered at her hands." 

"They say she blew up the city , destroying the Dead. No idea if it's true or not. But, some who fled say they owe their lives to her. " 

"Cersei? No that's impossible. She would have fled if she could. Don't believe that story."

Two days later, fresh news arrives. Grey Worm and the Unsullied have landed at Volantis, and are marching North.


	11. Sansa Faces the Past

Sansa washes herself, as best she can, using a rag and a pail of water that the two brothers have already used. They have gone out in search in food. She notices Taena staring at her body intently, and blushes under her gaze.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't stare, but...."

"I know what you're thinking. " 

"You don't have to tell me about it. "

"I told no one except my sister. " She dries herself off, and pulls on her tunic and trousers. "The marks on my body? " She takes a deep breath, before saying "I was married to a man some years ago. He was a wild beast in human form. He liked to torture me. I think it excited him. Whippings mostly, sometimes cutting or burning. Then, he would force himself on me. Once I bore him a living heir, I think he intended to torture me to death, before marrying his mistress. She was as cruel as he was."

"Good gods! There are some sick bastards in this district, but I never heard anything like that. So, how did you escape him?"

"I jumped off a wall into the snow with a dear friend, who had also suffered at his hands. To be honest, I didn't care if I lived or died at that point. We outran his hounds, and I got rescued by a guardian angel called Brienne. She's a soldier in Meereen. And eventually, I made it to my brother. We fought him, and captured him."

"I hope you made him suffer."

Sansa smiles at the memory, one of the few happy memories of her former life. "He liked to starve his hounds, and then feed people to them. He preferred to hunt young women, but he wasn't particular. He named their pups after his victims, if they gave him good sport. They were very hungry at this point. He told me he hadn't fed them for a week. So, I fed him to them in place of his victims. They said his screams could be heard half a mile away. His dying took a long time. "

Taena whistles appreciatively, looking at her with a new respect. "Good! You're a much harder woman than I took you for. I never thought the highborn had much to worry about. Well, the men obviously fight wars against each other, but I thought the rest of you all just lived in luxury."

"The Seven Kingdoms were a snakepit, believe me. Your brother talked about Queen Cersei, the other night. I was betrothed to her son for a time, and after that, I was kept a prisoner by her. Her son was poisoned at her wedding feast. I got the blame for it, but I was rescued. It turns out that the woman who did it ended up in Meereen, where she's a very close friend of the Queen. My friend, too, as it happens. Lady Olenna Tyrell. Cersei murdered her granddaughter." 

"I'm not sure I don't prefer my own life after all. You told us what happened to Bran and Arya. What happened to the rest of your family". 

My parents and two brothers were murdered." She feels tears start at the memory. The other woman takes her in her arms. "So, my brother, Jon, is all I have left." 

"Where is he now?" 

"The last I heard, he was on his way to Volantis with Grey Worm. I suppose he'll be with him when he takes the city."

"If what you say about the man is right, that can't happen soon enough. Food has run very short." 

"The Unsullied aren't like other soldiers. They don't murder and rape when they capture a city. Not that Jon would either" she adds hurriedly. She remains silent a few moments, before gently disengaging from the other woman's embrace. 

Then. "those people on the crosses, that could have been me, couldn't it?" 

"Yes. They've killed women. The Mayor was a bastard, I won't mourn him. But, I don't think everyone was a bastard who got nailed up or burnt. "

"I've been told the Queen crucified men when she took Meereen, years ago. But, they had nailed up slave children to taunt her. Nobody mourned them, apart from their families" 

"She did right!" comments Taena, fiercely. "Everything you tell me about her makes me like her." 

" Still, I don't know if Grey Worm can let those deaths pass. The workers' leaders might want to fight to the bitter end, if they think they're going to die." 

"Which means, the rest of us will starve."

"You've been very good to me, Taena, I have to be honest with you. I'm not really a part of the Queen's family. It's a long story, but it turns out Jon is my cousin, not my brother, even though I still think of him as one. He's her nephew. But, I'll still keep my promise to you, and I'm sure Jon will want to reward you all. If your brothers wanted, I'm sure he'd find them jobs with the army." 

"And, are you really a princess?" 

"Again, a long story. I would be a princess if Winterfell still existed, but it doesn't anymore, as I said the other night. But, the title helps to win business for the Bank." 

"Well, I still think you're our way out of this place - if we survive. Everything you've said about Meereen makes it sound far better than this dungheap. The bastards in charge here would never build shelters or schools for the poor."

At that point, the two brothers return. "We found some bread" says Ezzelino, "but that's it. But, we've got news. The Unsullied have reached the docks. There's talk about the workers' leaders surrendering to them. There's talk they want us to fight to the death. Everyone's got a different story. " 

"Hope for the best. Prepare for the worst" comments Sylvio. The wisdom of the ages in eight words. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taena realises that "how the other half live" cuts both ways.


	12. The Happy Return

The port of Selhorys is a hive of activity. During the course of the morning, Jon has seen over twenty ships dock, to unload their cargoes of military stores and food. Along with the surrounding district, they have been secured by the thousands of Unsullied Grey Worm brought with him. He has assumed command of the local forces too, over the heads of the former masters. Jon and the army's quartermaster, Brown Rat, have spent the morning checking off the supplies against their own manifests. Theft of stores is a constant risk, items are spoiled, but he has failed to discover anything seriously untoward. They have been here for three days, and are currently locked in negotiations with the workers' leaders in the city. Grey Worm is prepared to fight his way into the city as a last resort, but hopes to avoid bloodshed if at all possible. The local nobility largely favoured starving the population into surrender, a suggestion that Jon and Grey Worm treated with the contempt it deserved. Food will not be sent into the city, where he suspects it would mostly be stolen and sold on at inflated prices, but the locals have been allowed to come to the docks to collect bread, oil, dried fish and other staples.

It is time for another meeting with the local leaders. Jon knows what the main sticking point will be. What to do about the murders that were committed during the course of revolt within the city? Very nasty tales of burnings, crucifixions, rapes have emerged. The idea that such things should be pardoned leaves a bad taste in his mouth. Yet, if pardons will induce a surrender, surely lives will be saved overall. Gods, but what if Sansa was one of the victims? Could he truly avoid taking revenge? Ever since he learned of her movements, fear had gnawed at him. But, he can't disobey his commander. He enters a warehouse, which Grey Worm is using as a meeting place. He is present, with about a dozen of his officers. About a score of the highborn are present, along with a similar number of workers' leaders. The mutual hatred between those two groups is palpable. Grey Worm greets him, before addressing the workers:- 

"Your position is hopeless. I can take this city if I have to. I will give you twenty four hours to lay down your arms, before I start fighting." 

"And no doubt you'll be stringing us up, burning down entire districts, and plundering the place" snaps one of them, a carter named Vittorio. "You offer us nothing." 

"Not so. I am authorised to make concessions. I am prepared to offer a complete amnesty for actions committed during the revolt provided you surrender within the next day. After that, there will be no amnesty. " 

There is palpable anger among the highborn. "You'd let them get away with murdering innocents " snarls one, Otherys. "Some of us have family who were butchered". Jon turns to the man. 

"I've seen men hanging from gibbets on the way here. No doubt some of them were murderers, others guilty of nothing more than breaking machinery, or destroying property. Perhaps some were innocent. Regardless, were any of them tried before execution?" 

"Their guilt was manifest." 

"Ah, so men were hanged without trial. If we are to punish murders committed in this city, during the revolt, it seems only just that similar punishments should be inflicted on those who carried out summary killings of their own outside it. The offer of an amnesty applies to both sides in this conflict. In your position, I'd take it." He sees Grey Worm nod with approval.

"And, what if your own sister fell victim to them? We all know she went into the city, but she never came out."

What indeed? "I'd hate it. But, I'm not going to burn a city to avenge her." 

"And suppose we agree" comments Vittorio. "We just have to go back to being treated like shit?" 

"Hear me out. " He turned to the highborn. "I have no desire to overturn your traditions. Master Otherys, I believe you hold elections to your city councils. An unusual custom, but one which the Queen's Grace fully respects. Yet, it seems that only freeholders may vote, fewer than one tenth of the population. The Queen's Council have considered this issue; it would seem that if your councils are only accountable to a small minority of the population, they will ignore the wishes of the majority. That would seem to be at the root of the grievances which led to violence." 

"You're suggesting that the lowborn should be able to vote?" Otherys replied, puce with shock. "They'd strip us of everything we possess." 

"Her Grace proposes that from now on, the freeholders and those who are not freeholders should elect equal numbers of councillors to your councils." 

"The vote of a freeholder will still count for far more than the vote of a poor citizen. Again, Master Otherys, I would take this deal if I were in your shoes" Jon comments.

"And if we refuse?" cries Otherys. 

"The Queen may take decisions that are less to your liking" comments Grey Worm. "As Major Snow has said, you should accept an advantageous deal. The Queen's Grace has no wish to rob you of your possessions. But, you can surely see how.....precarious your position is. Treat people like dogs, and they will eventually bite back. Treat the freedmen more justly, give them the opportunity to prosper, involve them in your decisions, and you'll find you can enjoy your wealth in comfort and security. That has been the experience of the elite of Meereen, under the Queen's rule. She is no revolutionary."

"And will the Queen practise what she preaches?" sneers one notable. "Will she introduce such a system in Meereen." 

"She appoints both highborn and freedmen to her Council. But, yes, she will observe this new system with interest. If it works well, then I have no doubt she will wish to adopt it. There is more". Grey Worm goes on to outline proposed changes to laws governing hours of work and child labour. Finally ; "It has been drawn to the Queen's attention that children are used as whores, in this city and in the rest of Volantis. That is an evil that all city councils must now work to eradicate. It is Her Grace's will that users of children shall be gelded."

The meeting breaks up, with Vittorio promising an answer the following morning. Jon walks a few hundred yards to the food distribution point, checking to see the queues remain orderly. A woman screams his name. He looks up, and sees her, gaunt, scarred, head-scarf tied around her head, but unmistakeably Sansa. Discipline be damned! He runs over and sweeps her into his arms, both of them crying with relief. At last they break apart, surrounded by grinning onlookers. 

Sansa gestures to a woman and two men, who were queuing with her. " Jon, I owe my life to my companions, Taena, Ezzelino, and Sylvio. They've kept me safe this past month." 

"I'm in debt to all of you" he says, shaking their hands. " Rest assured, you'll be well rewarded for this. Now, come, we must find Grey Worm and tell him the good news. " He leads the party back towards the warehouse, feeling weak with relief. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I couldn't avoid taking a swipe at the idea that D & D gave us that starving Kings Landing into submission is the "humane" option. My view is that people who use starvation as a weapon of war deserve to experience it.
> 
> 2\. Elections in Volantis are part of the book canon. Even women have the vote. But, the franchise is restricted to a small minority of freeholders. That would be hard to sustain once the slave majority were enfranchised, but still found themselves without the vote. However, not even Sarella Sand, whose proposals these are, and whose ideas are advanced for their time, would favour one person one vote. A system where less than ten per cent of the population elect half of the councillors is still very heavily weighted in their favour. But, they will now have to share power with the rest.


	13. Facing the Music

Sansa closes her eyes in bliss, as she takes a proper bath for the first time in weeks. She returned to Volantis, a few days after the rebels agreed to Grey Worm's conditions and surrendered Selhorys. He allowed Jon three weeks' leave, so that he could spend time with her. Bennero is missing, presumed dead, leaving her to manage the bank locally, in addition to her other duties. A number of loans seem to be turning sour, and fresh deposits have fallen sharply, although her staff assure her that this is a temporary consequence of the unrest. The manufactory in Selhorys was partly destroyed, but it was insured with the Iron Bank, and Madam Carlot has confirmed in writing that the claim will be met. More disturbing is the absence of Oznak. He had sailed for Lys, but she would have expected him to return to sort out these problems. Still, life is not all about business. She lies back against the edge of the bath, as Taena first washes her hair and then massages her neck and shoulders. She has taken her on as her companion, while Brown Rat has employed her brothers in the army as chandlers, all of them at much higher salaries than they were earning in Selhorys. 

"Will you teach me my letters?" asks Taena. "I can read a bit, but I can't write."

"Yes. We can start this afternoon. And, I'll employ a tutor. " If Taena could write, she could become her scribe. "Do you read books, for pleasure?" 

"I could never afford them. But, the authorities were always posting bills in the city, and I had to check records, and lists in the chandler's. My parents taught me." 

"Once you learn to read for your own amusement, it's like a whole new world is opened up to you." 

She sighs with pleasure as Taena washes her back, leaning forward to give her better access. The woman's hands reach her thighs. It does feel so very good to be bathed like this. "I could comfort you in another way, if you wish" Taena murmurs, softly. It takes a moment for Sansa to realise what she means. 

"Don't you dare! That's disgusting!" She screams, slapping her hands away. She turns to glare furiously at the other woman, who looks mortified. 

"Oh gods, I'm sorry" says Sansa, filled with remorse. Of course, it's now illegal to keep bed slaves, but many of the smallfolk in this part of the world would still think this was required of them. "Taena, you're my companion, and my friend. You aren't my whore. Don't ever think I'd expect that of you."

There is an awkward moment as Sansa steps out of the bath, and Taena hands her a robe.

"May I get in?" she asks eventually, gesturing to the bath. "Of course, but we're to have luncheon with my brother and Madam Carlot, so don't take too long."

An hour later, they meet Jon and Carlot dan Eider at the eatery where she was so mortified all those weeks ago. She wears the same peach tokar, with matching rubies that she wore when she invited Lady Olenna to tea. She has given Taena her blue damask dress which fits her admirably, after being slightly altered. Madam Carlot looks, as always immaculate, and Jon is wearing his undress uniform.

The other banker greets them all warmly. She is hosting them today. Sansa notices that she singles out Taena especially, seeking to put her at her ease. She has taught her companion various forms of etiquette since Selhorys, but she has never set foot in such an establishment before, and the experience must be daunting for her. They make general conversation for a while, before Carlot turns to Jon: 

"You and Grey Worm deserve a great deal of credit for the way you handled the uprising. The local nobility and mill owners would have caused a bloodbath." 

"Or perished in one" Jon replies. "The smallfolk of the Rhoyne hate them, and with good reason, I must say. I should add that my sister" he nods at Sansa "almost brokered a compromise between the two sides, until some idiots lost their heads and set about killing the workers' leaders." 

"Is that so? If only people had listened to you, Sansa."

"I wouldn't have spent a month of my life in hiding, for one thing. Taena and her brothers kept me safe. I found out that the treatment of the smallfolk up the Rhoyne valley was .....not good." 

"Where is it good anywhere?' replies Carlot. "My own city, Braavos, and Meereen are the exceptions, I think. Anyway, you have my thanks Taena. Please take this as a token of my appreciation." She removes a gold ring from her finger, and hands it to Sansa's companion.

"What do you think of the Queen's reforms?" asks Jon. 

'In principle I agree. It's not so dissimilar to Braavos. The constitution favours the rich and noble, but the smallfolk do have a voice in our elections. But, we were a city founded by escaped slaves. There is a degree of fellow feeling among rich and poor that just doesn't exist here. The two groups hate each other, because not too long ago, one group were masters, and the other were slaves. The reforms will work if both groups are able to compromise, but my fear is there is no will to compromise." 

"Compromise seems to work in Meereen." 

"Because the Queen is present, and she can make it work. Because she has an army, most of whose officers are freedmen. The former masters have no choice but to behave themselves."

As the meal draws to a close, Carlot says "Major Snow, Taena, would you give her Highness and I a few moments together." 

She leads Sansa in silence out of the eatery and walks a short distance along the cliffside. Then she turns to her. 

"Oznak Galare will not be returning from Lys. He has defaulted on a loan made to him by a local bank. My enquiries suggest that he has debts that he cannot possibly hope to repay. Has he borrowed from the Bank of the Graces?" Sansa feels sick. 

"Yes?" 

"How much?" 

"I don't think I can say." 

"I'm trying to help you Sansa. " She names the figure. "You must assume that that sum will not be recovered." 

"But, he gave security for it. A very substantial estate in the vicinity of Meereen." 

"Are you sure he owns it?" 

"He had exchanged contracts for it. " 

"Meaning, he does not own it. He will have paid a small deposit, but ownership is not transferred until the price is paid in full. If it is not paid in full, then the deposit is forfeit to the seller. I'm afraid you bank's security is worthless." 

"But, our notary assured me that it was all above board" cries Sansa, now panicking. 

"Then, you must assume that your notary is a fool or, more likely, a criminal. Is he still employed by the Bank?" She nods. "Then dismiss him. I can recommend notaries and accountants who you may employ to investigate your Bank's affairs. They will be entirely discreet, I assure you. I think you must assume that this is not the only loan made by your bank that will turn out to be fraudulent." 

" Oh Gods, the Queen will be livid when she finds out. She said I was pledging the credit of her entire realm!" 

"First you must establish the extent of the Bank's losses, Sansa. But, my advice to you would be to be entirely frank in your dealings with the Queen. Keep nothing from her. One other thing, news of this default will spread rapidly. You must expect many depositors to start withdrawing funds. If I were you, I would obtain specie rapidly from your parent branch in Meereen to meet these demands. It is fatal for a bank to fail to honour its obligations to depositors. Now, we must return. Above all, you must give every appearance of being calm, and in charge of the situation. Do nothing to cause a panic."


	14. The Storm Breaks

Sansa works as she has never worked before. Even gathering supplies for the fight against the Dead was never so demanding. Over the course of the next three weeks, she will learn as much about banking as she learned over the preceding year. As Madam Carlot predicted, a steady stream of depositors have begun to demand their money back. Fortunately, many of them have to give the bank lengthy periods of notice before their money is returned; this gives time for coin to arrive from Meereen. She has sent a fast ship to that city, demanding gold and silver. The proceeds of insurance from Selhorys can be used to meet short term financial demands, and she has begun calling in short term loans wherever possible. Of course, this will do immense damage to the bank's goodwill in Volantis, but there is no choice, if she wants to pay depositors, as and when their debts fall due. Worryingly, it appears that some debtors to the bank are quite incapable of repaying their loans; even more worryingly, they are friends of board members, or principal investors; most worryingly of all, her signature and seal appear on the majority of the documents authorising such loans. She has taken her friend's advice, and dismissed staff who appear incompetent or dishonest. Their replacements come to her almost hourly, pointing to one black hole after another in the bank's accounts. Madam Carlot is impeccably polite as always, but she senses that her friend takes her for a fool. If anything, it is a pleasant distraction to spend an hour each day, teaching Taena how to write. Her companion is a very fast learner.

Unfortunately, there is much worse. She meets Madam Carlot one evening in her office, after hours, The news she received that afternoon made her feel nauseous. Furtively, she looks round and then utters the dread news. 

"I've discovered that the bank financed a loan to purchase children from orphanages in Volantis, in order to work in Astapor. " 

"Good gods!" For once, her friend's composure deserts her. Then, "You're in the shit. Your Queen hangs slavers!" She has never heard the woman swear before, and panicked though she was, she had overlooked the fact that slaving is a now a capital offence in territories governed by Daenerys. She has a nightmare vision of herself suspended from a noose, choking her life out, piss running down her legs. She can't help it, but she has to run to the privy, where she is promptly and violently sick. 

She returns to see Carlot staring at her grimly. "Right, first things first. Did you authorise the loan?" 

"I did." 

"Did you know that children were being sold?" 

"I was informed that they were being sent as apprentices to a button manufactory, where they would learn a trade and be educated". 

"Who told you that?" 

"Oznak Galare." 

"Fetch me the Board minute book." She hurries to the bank's safe, opens it, and brings the minute book back. Carlot leafs through it, frowning, at last reaching the relevant entry. "You're in luck. Your scribe has indeed recorded that Oznak told you that was the case. You must guard this book with your life. Where are the other board members who were present?" 

"They left for the other free cities. Apart from Grazdan Pahl that is. He's still in Volantis, I believe." 

"You may rest assured, that if and when this matter ever comes to trial, that man Pahl will try to place the blame on you. That book is your lifeline. I think you have two options. You can flee to one of the free cities with whatever you possess. But, that will be taken as an admission of guilt. You will never again be able to set foot on any territory controlled by Queen Daenerys, or upon Braavosi soil for that matter. The Sealord and his council would have no hesitation in extraditing you to Meereen if they thought you guilty of slaving. Or, you must return to Meereen immediately, and make a full confession to your Queen. You will be destroying your Bank in the process, but if you satisfy your Queen that you were duped by the other board members, you should be able to save your life. Everything that I have heard about her tells me that she is judicious and open-minded.

"She'll kill me, Carlot. Literally. If she knows the board were just cheating depositors, and loaning themselves and their friends money that will never be repaid, and now, financing slavery, she'll kill me. I.... did not make a good impression on the Queen during my first months in Meereen. Relations between us did improve, a bit, but now, this. She won't hang me. She'll crucify me!" 

"Sansa, pull yourself together. " The older woman grips her shoulders. " You know why she crucified those men, when she took the city. They crucified children. You have done nothing of that sort. Calm down, and take this." She pulls out a hip flask, from which Sansa swallows vigorously. Tyroshi pear brandy. 

"Not too much. This is to steady your nerves. Now, do you want to spend the rest of your life running from your Queen?" Sansa shakes her head. "Then, you must return. Ensure you get back to Meereen ahead of Grazdan Pahl. Tell, the Queen's Grace everything you know. I'm afraid that you will likely be facing charges relating to the loss of funds, but those are not capital offences. And, when this is over, do something with your life other than working as a banker, As I told you weeks ago, please accept this advice in the spirit in which it is offered.

"Who will run the Bank here in my absence? " 

"I suggest you appoint one of the notaries. Based upon what you have told me, he will have no option but to surrender the Bank's licence to operate in this territory, and to wind up its affairs here, but you must prioritise saving your own life." 

On board ship to Meereen, three days later, she explains the situation to Taena, who is able to grasp it perfectly. "Con artists are no different in the slums to the ones you meet among the highborn" she comments. "They just steal bigger sums. 

"I fear I won't be able to employ you much longer, but have these." She gives her companion her matching ruby necklace and earrings. They are worth about a year's wages for Taena. "Treat them as severance pay. I'd rather you had them than my executioner did."


	15. The Return of the Native

There is a steady drizzle in the air, mingling with the droplets of water being whipped off the sea by the relentless gale. They match Sansa's mood as they reach Meereen. She is reconciled to a lengthy term of imprisonment. She only hopes she can avoid execution, or worse. Her experiences with Lord Bolton have made her realise that there are much worse things than being executed. She is cursed with a vivid imagination. At various points on the voyage home, she has conjured up gruesome mental pictures of herself being scourged, branded with hot irons, or racked, in cellars far beneath the Great Pyramid, a victim of Daenerys' fury. The rational part of her mind tells her that Daenerys would never order such things, however angry she might be. But, she can't always remain rational. Oh, and Jon and Brienne! She can't begin to imagine how upset they'll be when they learn of this. She only hopes her actions won't blight their careers. 

As they disembark at the dockside, Taena excuses herself, saying she has an important errand. That young woman is one of the few things that have kept her sane in recent weeks. She has constantly reassured Sansa that her intentions were good, and she cannot be blamed for the deceits of her colleagues. Well, perhaps not when it comes to the enslavement of children. But, she knows now that she was played for a fool by Oznak and his colleagues, and set up to take the blame for the Bank's inevitable financial collapse. They will never return from the free cities, while she must bear the brunt of the anger of those depositors who will recover only a fraction of their savings. She obtains a carriage and rides a short distance to a small, but elegant, townhouse she bought, just before leaving Meereen, all those months ago. Presumably, this will be seized eventually by her creditors, along with everything else she possesses. Still, it could be worse. Were the Great Masters still in charge, she'd have been sold into a brothel, if she couldn't pay her debts. She enters, a porter bringing in her luggage. The house is cold and cheerless, after being unoccupied for so long. She realises that she needs to see the Queen as swiftly as possible. But, first, she needs to speak to Lady Olenna Tyrell. She winces, as she imagines the tongue-lashing that the old woman will give her, but at least she should provide good advice. And, secure her an interview with the Queen. Oh Gods! If an interview with Lady Olenna will be humiliating, she shudders to think what the Queen will say. Still, best to get it over and done with. While waiting for Taena, she goes to her bureau, and drafts a letter to the matriarch of the Tyrells.

Taena returns, to tell her that she has sold the necklace and earrings, bought a sack of peppercorns, and deposited them in a bonded warehouse. "Very sensible. My creditors could trace expensive jewellery, but not a sack of peppercorns," Sansa responds. In Meereen, as in much of the East, peppercorns can be used as currency, like many spices. Not for the first time, she realises that Taena is far more clued-up about finance than she is. Or at any rate, was. She knows far more now than she would ever wish to know. 

A couple of days later, Lady Tyrell arrives in her carriage. Sansa greets her, nervously. Taena serves them tea and cakes. Slowly, haltingly, she explains just what went wrong. The first dinner with Oznak, the formation of the Bank; the loans that she signed off, without seriously checking to see whether they were likely to be repaid; the acceptance of securities that turned out to be worthless; her pitches to depositors who were likely to lose a high proportion of their savings. She avoids discussing the orgy at the Villa Loraq, or the dwarf-throwing contests on board the Bank's yacht. "Oh, foolish, foolish child!" Olenna exclaims at various points. That is among the more complimentary of Olenna's remarks. As she explains how the Bank financed the purchase of the child slaves, she comments "Really, Sansa, I wonder if you even possess the wits the Gods gave to a turnip. How on earth did you provision Winterfell without falling over your own feet?" And, that elicits a surprising response, from Taena. 

"You don't get to say that to Princess Sansa, my Lady! She needs your help, not your insults. She tried to save innocent lives in my home city. She wrote the Queen about child whores and dreadful conditions for the workers. She's got a good heart!" 

Olenna gives Taena a long hard stare. Sansa doubts if anyone has ever spoken to her in such terms, let alone a lady's companion. She holds her breath, awaiting the inevitable crushing retort. But, Olenna surprises her in turn, her expression softening. 

"There is merit in what you say. What happened in Selhorys?" Sansa explains how she almost brokered an agreement between the Mayor and his councillors, and the workers' leaders. "That is an important point in your favour, Sansa, as are the reports you have been sending to the Queen. She has commended you to me, for bringing injustice to her attention. I trust you have kept your Minute book safe?" Sansa nods. "The fact that you have returned to this city, to make a full confession is another factor that points to your innocence of the slaving charge. But, I cannot guarantee that the Queen will see it in the same light. Yet, her Grace does not condemn people on such a serious charge without trial. I very much fear that you will be facing charges relating to the Bank's losses, in addition. And, you are certain to be made bankrupt. This house, and any plate and jewels which you possess will be sold, and will go towards paying the Bank's creditors. As will the property of Galare, and his other board members. Even if you avoid imprisonment, you must reconcile yourself to having to live in very straitened circumstances for some time to come." A year and a half ago, the prospect of living like one of the Smallfolk would have horrified Sansa; now, if that is all that she suffers, it will be a gentle punishment indeed. 

"Well, the pair of you have given me a great deal to think about. I will arrange a meeting with Queen Daenerys as swiftly as I can. And you" she speaks to Taena "would do well to hold your tongue in the Queen's presence. She has a forgiving nature, but she will not be happy to learn of this. I shall try to break the news to her, as gently as I can, but I have no doubt she will express her displeasure quite vigorously."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spices have often been used as currency in the past, because they are very portable, and highly prized. Hence, the expression "a peppercorn rent."


	16. The Queen's Justice

Three days later comes the summons from the Queen that Sansa has been dreading. An officer of the city guard arrives at her house, and informs her she is to come to the Great Pyramid immediately. A closed carriage, with armed guards, is waiting for her in the street. There are times during the short ride when she wishes that the ground would open and just swallow her up. Her fears of torture and death come flooding back . She imagines Ramsay Bolton, Joffrey, Cersei, and Littlefinger, looking up from whichever of the Seven hells they now inhabit, and grinning at her predicament. Will she be joining them shortly, united with them in a bond of eternal hatred? Sensing her worry, Taena holds her hand tightly. "I don't think this will go well" she whispers to her companion. "Just tell the truth, my Lady. You are innocent."

The carriage halts, and the officer opens the door. "Follow me, my Lady" he commands. They enter the pyramid, and are led down a flight of steps, into a basement. Oh Gods, this is not a good sign. Eventually, they reach a stout wooden door, and the officer knocks three times. "Enter", she hears Daenerys, and the man opens the door. The chamber is large, but plain. Present, are the Queen, Missandei, and Lady Olenna, with a couple of armed guards. They are seated at a large table. Two chairs are set opposite, for her and Taena. But, thank the Gods! There are none of the instruments of interrogation that she was half expecting to see displayed to her. An interview with Queen Cersei would have been very different. 

"Be seated, Lady Sansa" commands the Queen. She is calm, but stony-faced, and Sansa can sense her anger. "I am sure you know why you are here. If I understand Lady Olenna correctly, the Bank of which you are Magistra is hopelessly insolvent. Worse, funds which were deposited with the institution, a high proportion of which belonged to your compatriots, have been stolen by members of the Board and their friends. Much worse than that, members of the Board knowingly lent money for the purchase of child slaves, in violation of my laws, and in violation of the instructions which I gave you before you left this city. Am I correct?". 

"Yes, your Grace" she murmurs, unable to meet her eye. 

"You realise what the penalty is for slaving?" 

"I do your Grace" she replies, her throat dry. "I was deceived. I can prove it. I have the Board minutes with me." She hands the book to Daenerys, who examines the relevant section. 

"This could be a forgery", comments Missandei. 

"I promise, these Minutes are genuine. I would not have returned to the city, if I were guilty. I would have fled." 

"Perhaps you had nowhere to flee to" replies the Queen's scribe.

There is a long silence, before the Queen speaks again. "Guilty or not, you have caused me problems that I could have done without, in violation of the instructions I gave you, before you set out. Either, I must allow your depositors to lose huge sums of money, destroying my city's commercial reputation across the East, or my treasury must reimburse their losses. That is money I could have used for the benefit of my people. " 

"I'm sorry" is all that Sansa can say. 

"You're sorry? I'm sorry as well. I'm sorry that I ever allowed you to set foot in this city. I'm sorry that I trusted you to manage a Bank. I'm sorry that I let you pledge my nation's credit abroad." 

"Your Grace" comments Lady Olenna. "Please remember that Sansa drew grave evils in Volantis to your attention. She tried to broker a peace agreement at Selhorys." 

"Tell me about Selhorys." Sansa explains in detail what happened, as she did to Lady Olenna. The Queen's expression softens a little. "That reflects well on you. But, a good deed does not wash out the bad." Her heart sinks again. "Let me tell you what I think. I think that at the very least, you have displayed an appalling level of incompetence in running your Bank's affairs. I suspect that you were duped by your colleagues, but I and Lady Olenna warned you to research their backgrounds. This, you failed to do. I find it very hard to believe that you would knowingly place your head in a noose by practising slavery, but I cannot be certain. Greed will make people do the most stupid things. I see no option other than for you to stand trial both in relation to the Bank's losses, and in relation to the enslavement of children. I cannot, in good conscience, fail to give evidence on your behalf, regarding the reports of abuses that you drew to my attention, but Nor can I let this matter pass. I will order that your case be tried by Lady Sarella Sand; I can think of no one more suitable for this task. It will be for a jury to determine your guilt or innocence. If you are found guilty, of any of the charges, it will be for Lady Sarella to determine your sentence. If you consider such sentence to be excessive, then you may appeal to me. " 

"I thank your Grace" Sansa replies. "Your Grace, may I speak" comments Taena. "Of course". "Lady Sansa" (Sansa has warned her not to call her Princess again) "kept her word to my brothers and me. We sheltered her during the revolt. Many highborn would not have kept their promises. She has only said good things about your Grace to me. She hates to see cruelty being inflicted on children. That's why she wrote to your Grace about it. She follows the religion of the Seven, and they hold slavery to be a terrible sin. I know she's innocent." 

"Thank you" replies the Queen after a pause. " I would like to believe you, but that will be for the Court to determine. In the meantime, Lady Olenna, would you keep Lady Sansa in custody in your chambers?" 

"Of course, your Grace" 

Daenerys and Missandei get up to leave. She turns in the doorway. "It seems you got your wish, after all, Sansa." 

"Your Grace?" 

"You will get to live in the Great Pyramid, after all."


	17. Reaping What you Sew

Lady Tyrell's granddaughters are unfailingly polite to Sansa, while she lives in their chambers, but the atmosphere is strained, still. She appreciates that it is never easy to make conversation with someone you know may shortly be executed. Olenna herself has been extremely helpful, going over the details of the case with Sansa, and advising her how best to present her arguments. Although her assets have been frozen, funds have been released to enable her to hire the services of a notary. She faces four charges; misconduct in the performance of her duties as Magistra of the Bank; theft; fraud, and enslavement. Both her notary and Lady Olenna advise her to plead guilty to the first of those charges. It is the least serious of the four, and in reality, there is no defence that can be offered to it. The other three must be contested. At times, Sansa's days drag on, dreary and boring; at others, they seem to fly by, as the date for her trial approaches. Her nights are often sleepless. Brienne, Sam, Davos have all visited, to offer their condolences and support. 

At last, the day of the trial dawns. It is held in a large hall, at a lower level in the Great Pyramid. A most impressive array of witnesses has been lined up to give evidence against Sansa. Depositors who lost their money; bank employees who are eager to testify against her; even some of the orphaned children, who were rescued, and brought from Astapor. It takes almost a week for the evidence against her to be presented in full, before she and her notary have the opportunity to present her side of the case. Even to her, it sounds feeble. She can't deny that she solicited funds from potential investors; that her signature and seal appeared on loan agreements to people who never intended to repay the Bank; that the security which she accepted in return to the loan to Oznak was worthless; and that she approved the loan to enable the purchase of children. All she can do is reiterate that she was deceived; that she would never have returned to Meereen voluntarily had she been guilty, and that the minute book proves that she was lied to about the purchase of children. Daenerys did keep her promise to give evidence on her behalf, that she had drawn attention to very grave evils taking place in Volantis. Her notary had hammered home the point that such behaviour was quite incompatible with that of a woman who was complicit in slavery. In effect, he argues over and again that his client was a fool, but honest and well-intentioned. It is unpleasant to have one's advocate describe his client as a fool, but better that then going to the gallows. 

After more than a day's deliberation, the jury return to deliver their verdict. They find her not guilty of theft but guilty of fraud. They have not accepted that the grant of the loan to Oznak was an honest mistake. Initially, they cannot decide whether she is guilty of the enslavement charge. After retiring for further deliberation, they eventually return to acquit her, on a majority verdict. She recognises that the Queen probably saved her life, by giving evidence on her behalf. The fact that two jurors should have believed her guilty of enslavement, nonetheless, is a cloud which she suspects will always be hanging over her. She blushes to hear the comments made by Lady Sand as she delivers sentence, providing a withering assessment of her failings as Magristra, and her unfitness to work in the banking sector. Yet, the sentence itself is probably as light as she could have hoped for. She is sentenced to a term of imprisonment, but that is suspended for a period of five years; her conduct, in drawing attention to abuses and trying to broker a peace agreement in Selhorys, is viewed as a substantial mitigating factor. As expected, Lady Sand orders the confiscation of her house and jewels, and fixes further hearings in order to determine what proportion of her future earnings should be deducted to pay creditors. In practice, that means repaying the city, after the Queen agreed that the Bank's depositors should be reimbursed from her treasury. Finally, she is barred from ever again holding office as Magistra of a bank.

Her travails are far from over. There are meetings with creditors to attend, at which they make all too plain what they think of her. The city treasury may make good the sums they deposited, but they must bear the loss of interest themselves. Grazdan Pahl is eventually apprehended and brought back to Meereen. He is tried on similar charges to her own. Naturally, she is required to give evidence against him. Just as inevitably, he and his notary attempt to pin the blame for the Bank's failures on her. He denies all knowledge of the sale of children, while alleging that the scheme had been cooked up by Oznak and Sansa. He is not believed, and is condemned on every charge. A fortnight later, he is hanged in the city's main plaza. She chooses not to attend.

Much to her surprise, she has met with nothing but sympathy on the part of her fellow exiles from Winterfell. It is to the good that none of them have any knowledge about finance, and tend to view her as the victim of misfortune, rather than the architect of her own woes. Lady Olenna, her granddaughters, and the Sands, are far more financially literate, but at least they have remained friendly towards her, even purchasing items of clothing from her. 

Nine months after her trial ended, she is sitting in the back of a small seamstress' shop in the city centre, leased by Taena. The woman has been a godsend. She negotiated the terms of the lease, as well as terms and conditions of sale, and contracts with suppliers. She markets the shop, and keeps the accounts. Basic arithmetic presents few problems for her, whereas Sansa always struggled with it. She herself focuses on sewing and embroidering, tasks she is genuinely gifted at. The shop is held in Taena's name, and Sansa is legally her employee, although effectively, it is a partnership. They live in rooms above the shop. The business is starting to fare well. Today, she faces the meeting she dreads perhaps more than any other. Jon has now returned from Volantis, and will be meeting her. How can she even look him in the eye?

Jon enters, and she serves him tea. For a long time, they say nothing. 

Then, "I'm so sorry Sansa, I let you down. You should never have had to work for a living. I'm earning far more now, as Chief of Staff to Grey Worm than when I left. Anything you need, I'll pay for it." 

Well, that's a much more encouraging opening than she had hoped for. For a long moment, she is very tempted to set out a lengthy list of requirements. A maid, a suite of rooms, fine clothes, perhaps even a carriage and a coachman. But, no, how can she even think of it? In the end, she asks for a modest sum, in order to purchase more cloth and haberdashery. 

"Is that what you want, Sansa, to spend the rest of your life sewing?" 

"Not sewing Jon"; she gives a brief snort of laughter. "I'll be spending the rest of my life reaping."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The final comment is based on the response that Horatio Bottomley, politician and con artist gave when sewing mailbags in prison.


End file.
